Sins of My Youth
by pirate-and-the-princess
Summary: Set in an alternate universe; a 16-year-old Emma Swan is pushed into a portal and transported to Neverland, where she meets a strange young man named Killian Jones. As they both try to escape Neverland and return to their respective worlds, they meet a surprising amount of resistance from Peter Pan, who has his own agenda for Emma.
1. Teen Idle

Disclaimer: This is an AU piece so uh, timelines are gonna be wonky for the sake of the story. And the general details of the curse… this is just for pure fun, so don't take it too seriously! This is a Younger!CS story, so keep that in mind!

* * *

**Chapter One - Teen Idle**

It was just past midnight, and the full moon lit up Emma's room through the slivers in her blinds. She was struggling to sleep tonight. The occasional car drove by outside, and she wondered if it was the quiet suburban setting that was causing her insomnia. Everything was always so _quiet_ here.

Granted, she really shouldn't complain. The Barbers were a really nice couple, with big hearts. Emma wasn't sure how long she'd be staying with them, despite the couple insisting they'd take care of her until she turned 18. For the past 16 years, no one had ever kept that promise (sometimes she was glad for that). But something always came up: a new baby, a sudden death, unemployment... some reason that Emma couldn't stay.

She liked foster care more than the orphanage, which was one of the most depressing places she'd ever encountered. Every time she got sent back, Emma would spend half of her time thinking of ways to escape, and the other half actually attempting the escape. Unfortunately, she was always brought back and subsequently labeled a troublemaker.

She took a deep breath and held it, releasing it once her lungs began to ache. Her brain began to slow down, and she knew sleep would soon be at hand. She closed her eyes, and began to dream.

The sound of birds chirping outside her window awoke Emma. Sunlight had replaced moonlight, but there was vastly more of it than Emma had expected. Blinking several times, Emma was nearly blinded by the flood of light in her room. When she'd gone to bed the blinds had been down and the window closed, but now they were up and the window open.

Frowning as she sat up, Emma gingerly slid out of bed and walked over to the window. No sign of forced entry... had she opened it in her sleep? Was that even possible? Her frown deepened when she noticed a piece of paper on the windowsill, folded under her glass paperweight.

Her stomach churned and her breath caught in her throat. _Someone_ had been here last night. Before touching the paper, she quickly scanned her room. Nothing looked out of the ordinary... Emma tended to keep things clean and in order, so she'd notice if anything was off.

But the paperweight was _hers_, and had been moved from her desk. Her fingers shook slightly as she lifted the weight and unfolded the paper.

She dropped the paper upon reading it, and nearly swooned. Grabbing the windowsill for support, Emma fought off tears and the urge to vomit. She was scared, nauseous and confused all at the same time.

There was one simple message on the paper, written in very neat, flowing script: _Come to the Old Grey Bridge at 5pm, if you want to find your parents._


	2. What the Water Gave Me

Disclaimer: I've got finals for these next two weeks, so I probably won't be writing much until they're over. Review if you like- I like the idea I've got going, but encouragement is always welcomed. ;) Again this is an AU piece, so cannon-police can just let me be. 3

* * *

**Chapter Two: What the Water Gave Me**

What did this mean? Was this a sick joke?

Granted, she wasn't exactly sure who would bother to play it on her. She'd only been in this town for two months, and while she didn't have any friends, she didn't have any enemies either. Or... any she was aware of, at least.

And the other children staying at the Barbers were all under the age of seven, so she knew they were not capable of writing such a note. Basically, the fact that someone had managed to come in through her window, and leave such a note was far too strange to ignore.

Should she tell the Barbers? Or would they think it was a cry for help of some kind? Emma really didn't want to give them a reason to force her to leave.

But, she didn't exactly want to ignore the note either. The bridge was a public enough place, right? Surely she'd be within view of cars driving by?

The temptation was too big to resist. Emma knew nothing of her parents, apparently she'd been found on a roadside in Maine by a little boy. The boy was a John Doe much like herself, but she'd never gotten to meet him. He ran away at an early age and the authorities had never found him.

What if this was him?

There were so many questions that Emma was struggling to answer, but she knew that she had no answers. Maybe she really should ask the Barbers...

Indecision gripped her as she changed her clothes (only after making sure her room was completely empty of intruders), and she couldn't help but pout as she contemplated her options. Did she even want to know who her parents were? They clearly never wanted to know anything about her.

Honestly, who abandons a baby in the middle of nowhere? There weren't even any missing couples or reports of missing babies in the area either, so that pretty much indicated that she hadn't been wanted.

_Whatever_. Emma thought, closing her eyes and exhaling. _I'm stronger for it._ Opening her blue eyes, she walked over to the door and opened it. Standing poised to knock was Carlos, possibly one of the cutest five-year-olds Emma had ever seen. He looked up at her with huge brown eyes and a big smile. "Millie made breakfast!" Without further explantation and grabbed Emma's hand. She couldn't help but smile as she followed him to all the other bedrooms to collect the other two children.

Lucy, a little troublemaker with chubby cheeks and lots of brown freckles, was quick to bolt out the door and join them. At the age of six she was filled with boundless energy, and loved pranking those around her. "Robert _hurry_." She whined outside the door of her biological brother's door. The seven-year-old took his time changing, and eventually joined them in the hallway.

Lucy and Robert were lucky to have each other, since his serious demeanor contained his wild sister. They were new to the system, after their parents died in a horrific car crash the year before. There were no relatives to claim them, so here they were. Carlos, on the other hand, had a similar story to Emma.

She looked down at his dark curls as they walked down the hallway to the stairs, and quickly picked him up as they walked down the stairs. "Thanks Emma." He cooed, wrapping his arms around her neck in a hug. Despite Emma's policy of zero attachment, she couldn't help herself with this little one. He wormed his way into her heart and was quickly building himself a palace.

What could be the harm? Emma often asked herself, children were always honest and pure. There was no harm in forming a bond with a child, since they would always love you. Or, that's what Emma liked to think.

As they settled in to eat breakfast, she suddenly remembered the note. As she attempted to keep her expression happy and care-free (a skill she'd been working on over the years), her stomach was churning. "Are you feeling alright, sweetie?" Millie Barber asked Emma, as she served Lucy yet another pancake.

Unaware that she had been zoned out, Emma blinked and quickly nodded. "Oh! Yes, sorry! I'm just not fully awake yet."

This pattern of thought continued all day, from the walk in the park with the children, to the trip to the grocery store, until it was 4:30 in the afternoon. Emma had been attempting to think up an excuse all day, and finally decided on the only one that was feasibly normal for a teenager: "Millie, a few friends from school wanted to meet at the park in fifteen minutes. Do you mind if I go?"

The middle aged woman paused from cutting up vegetables, and looked at Emma with a mix of surprise and happiness (thought Emma swore she saw a flash of suspicion), "Of _course_, sweetie! I'm so glad you've been making friends. Make sure to be back by 5:30 for dinner!"

"Don't worry- I will be!"

The walk to the bridge was terrifying. Emma wasn't sure what to expect. When facing another human being, she could figure out if they were lying or not. But a note? Not that easy. She held it in her leather coat pocket, and walked quickly in the direction she believed the bridge to be in. Given that it was a Sunday evening in April, the sun was starting to move downwards casting a warm glow over everything.

Subconsciously, Emma wished she'd dressed better. A sundress made sense during the day, but with the setting sun it was not ideal. Her legs felt like they were covered in goosebumps, and she wasn't sure if it was her nerves or the actual chill in the air.

So consumed in her thoughts, she didn't realize she had arrived at the bridge until she stood at the edge of it. Underneath she could hear the rush of the river, and she tried to keep her head clear. But it was useless. There were no cars _or_ people around. If she screamed- would anyone be nearby to help her?

Granted, Emma never relied on others for help. Hence the pocket knife she clutched in her other pocket. She'd gotten into fights before, and always gotten out just fine. Though, those fights involved adolescents at the various schools and homes she cycled through. Nor were they frequent enough to give her any real experience. "You're here."

Emma's heart felt like it was about to explode from pressure, and she whirled around to face the source of the voice. A young man stood there, certainly college age at the very least. He was handsome, though not in the typical athletic jock way. He looked cultured, a sort of air of experience and knowledge that seemed to exude from him. Perhaps it was the elegantly groomed haircut, or the look in his eyes. This only made her more apprehensive. "You broke into my room?" The question came out of her mouth without much of a thought, and she blushed at her bluntness.

He laughed, a short slightly distracted laugh, and he moved over to the edge of the bridge and leaned against it on one arm. "Just opened the window."

"And taking my paperweight." She said, her grip on the pocket knife was so strong her palms began to sweat.

He shrugged, "Right." He scratched his developing brown beard, and looked at her for a moment. "I'm August."

He didn't make a move to offer a handshake, which caused Emma to raise her eyebrows despite herself. Though, she couldn't shake the familiarity of the name. "So..." She said pursing her lips together, "My parents?"

"Right! Your parents, very good people..." August pushed himself off the bridge, he shoved his hands in his pockets, and his eyes widened. "Shit! I lost my keys!" He patted his pockets several times, and a frown appeared on his face. "I was walking by the river- help me find them? We can talk while we walk."

"Uh... sure." Keeping a little distance between them, Emma found it hard to concentrate as they walked along the riverside, farther away from the road. There was a little path used by locals for walks, but no one seemed to be about. This only increased her uneasiness.

"So, your parents are amazing." _Are? They're alive._ Emma's mind quickly picked up on that simple word. "They're real fighters." _Too vague, give me details_. "They really didn't want to give you up but- oh! There they are!" Emma's heart stopped, and for a split second she thought she was getting a surprise visit from her family (a scenario she thought she'd given up on). No. He was talking about his keys.

"Look, um, I need to be back soon. Can you just tell me where I can find them and... if they want to be found. Also- how do you even know all this?" He picked up something on the riverside, and Emma noticed that it was _not_ a pair of keys. "_What _is that?" She snapped, her nerves on overdrive.

"Ah, a magic bean." His eyes had a glint in them that made Emma take a step backwards. This was the look of a crazy person. "Your parents are Snow White and Prince Charming, Emma. I don't know how else to tell you."

Emma's eyes widened. He _was_ insane! "Get away from me!" Unfortunately, with her hands in her pockets, her balance was thrown as she tried to move backwards and run away. August grabbed her knife arm to stabilize her, causing her hand to shoot out her pocket and the knife to get thrown several paces away. Now would be the time to scream-

With his other hand, August threw the 'magic' bean in the river. There was a huge rushing noise, and the wind suddenly picked up to a gale. A whirlpool developed in the river, and August began to drag her towards it. "I can't have you breaking the curse Emma. I love my life- I don't want to give it up!" August shouted over the roar of the whirlpool.

"_What are you talking about?!_" Emma screamed as she tried to free herself, knowing it was futile. He was stronger than her, and heavier. She couldn't out-balance him. He was insane- and what the _hell_ was this whirlpool?

With a sudden jolt of brute strength, Emma found herself hurtling through the air towards the whirlpool. Her screams were only silenced by the water as it pulled her downwards.


	3. My Legs Are Weak

Disclaimer: Hope you all like this chapter! I don't know when the next one will be written, so hold tight!

* * *

**Chapter Three: My Legs Are Weak**

Wonder and confusion almost overrode Emma's struggle for oxygen as she was hurtled through a seemingly never-ending tunnel of swirling colors. Upon entering the water in the river, she had been sucked into the whirlpool, which seemed to be a condensed hurricane on the inside. The wind was so strong, it was hard for Emma to catch her breath.

Though, the colors were mesmerizing. Blues, yellows and pinks- some shades she'd never seen before! _This is a dream... a terrible dream..._ She told herself, closing her eyes from the wind. Suddenly the rushing stopped, and Emma felt herself falling rapidly.

She slammed into cold water, and quickly surfaced for air. It was very dark, and the water was very choppy and slightly cold. Emma could already feel her limbs growing tired, and she struggled to look around for land. There was an opening of light to the right, causing her to realize that she was in some sort of cave. There was a distinctive echo of the waves lapping against something, and she hoped it was a ledge for her to climb on, not the walls of the cave.

From shuffling through foster care, swim lessons had never been a priority for many of her foster parents, so she was not very proficient. She could do a basic crawl and backstroke, but... that's about it. Treading water was currently a struggle, especially with her boots on her feet, and her dress and coat dragging her with the waves. The water stung her eyes, and she became distinctly aware that this was salt water. _Where the hell am I?_ She thought, slowly swimming towards the opening of the cave. Maybe from there she could follow the wall and-

"SHIT!" The scream exploded out of her mouth without a thought as something brushed against her leg. It was slick, and set chills up and down Emma's spine. _Please be seaweed, please be seaweed._ Blinking tears away, she moved towards the wall of the cave at a faster rate. Her dress was dragging her down, and she half contemplated taking it off.

A wave practically slammed her against the rock wall, and she scrambled to find an indent to hold onto. She froze as something touched her leg yet again; it felt like a finger running down her calf to the top of her ankle boots, causing her to nearly have a heart attack. Instinctively she kicked towards this _thing_, and her eyes bugged when she actually made contact with something solid. There was a strange noise coming from the water, like the sound of nails on a chalkboard but muffled. "Oh my god, oh my god!" Scrambling along the wall, Emma slipped several times on the algae, and certainly cut her hands at least once.

Her fear was so complete that she'd crossed the threshold into survivor mode, where her adrenaline had completely taken over. Finally, she bumped into something substantial. In the dim moonlight from the opening to the cave, she saw several reflections in the distance, indicating she'd finally reached some sort of ledge. It was a bit high for her, so using all her upper body strength, she kicked and attempted to push herself up onto it.

It was incredibly hard, and despite her best efforts she was truly struggling. She finally managed to maneuver her torso onto the ledge, when something latched onto her ankle. She screamed in surprise, and violently thrashed her legs but whatever it was (it felt like a hand) had a vice grip on her, and was _not_ letting go. Slowly, whatever or _whomever_ it was began to pull her backwards into the water. Emma tried to find anything to hold onto, and eventually found one little gap in the rock. Gripping into it with her right hand, she winced as sharp barnacles cut into her fingers. Ignoring the pain, she continued to pull against her attacker, and her grip began to have the desired effect. Her left hand finally made contact with a rock of some kind, and despite the thick algae coating, used it to pull herself up onto the ledge. She nearly had her entire torso on the ledge, and she slammed her leg against the rock, causing the attacker's grip to loosen enough for her to pull her leg out of its grasp. Falling onto ledge, she quickly shuffled as close to the wall as she could, as far away from the water as possible.

Staring out into the water, she saw a dark shadow against the moonlight reflecting on the water. It resembled a head, and suddenly the light reflected off what were _obviously_ eyes. On a face. A _human_ face. Though, the light also reflected off the teeth of this creature, and they were _not_ human teeth. Shark-like was more accurate.

Wishing she still had her knife, Emma did her best to summon her courage. Usually she had it in abundance but now she was beginning to feel tired. The adrenaline was slowly ebbing away. Reaching around her, she groped for _anything_ she could use as a weapon. But as the minutes stretched onwards, she realized the creature was not moving. "Leave me alone!" Emma demanded, drawing her bleeding hand up towards her chest protectively.

This clearly wasn't the greatest idea, as whatever it was began to move closer, its dark hair dragging behind it as it swam. "I just want to drown you." Emma's eyes widened, and using her wet boots she attempted to push herself up on the wall, as far away from this thing as possible. This creature's voice was _not_ what she'd expected (she really hadn't expected coherent words at all); its voice was melodic, youthful and very feminine.

Irritation began to creep into Emma's emotions, and her upper lip began to curl in disdain. She was really getting tired of all this _shit_. "Get the _hell_ away from me." She snapped, and the creature laughed.

Despite its nightmarish visage (its eyes began to glow yellow upon closer inspection), Emma found herself becoming relaxed. "Come back in the water." The monster cooed, and Emma began to step forwards despite herself. However, its head suddenly snapped to look at the entrance of the cave. An orange-yellow glow was reflecting on the water, and the sound of oars hitting the water caused Emma's thoughts to clear.

The monster let out a hideous snarl, and looked at Emma one last time before diving in the water and disappearing. "What..." The teen was left hugging her bleeding hand to her chest, breathing heavily. There was the noise of something bumping against the edge of the cave, and the orange light grew stronger. Could it be a flashlight? Could someone be coming?

But could she trust them? She'd already been assaulted twice today, and frankly she wasn't too keen to find out who was coming. She finally managed to find a loose rock, and gripped it tightly in her uninjured hand. At least she could defend herself for a few moments with it? "Whose there?" She shouted, her question echoing violently around the cave.

An accented masculine voice responded, "Hello?" The tip of a small sailboat appeared, its mast nearly scraping the opening of the cave. "Whose there?" A lantern was attached to the front of it, illuminating Emma but blocking her vision.

"I asked first!" Emma snapped in spite of herself. She was tired, wet, cold, and in pain and honestly just wanted to go home to the warmth of the Barber household.

The sailboat pulled up alongside the ledge, and a hand shot out from it and gripped onto it. "_You're_ not Tiger Lily." A young man sat at the tiller of the tiny boat, half his face obscured in shadow from the lantern. _What kind of a name is Tiger Lily?_ Emma thought, raising her eyebrow slightly. He had lightly tanned skin, dark hair and eye-lashes, which framed his eyes quite beautifully as his eyes narrowed. He seemed to be making his mind up on something, and eventually his expression softened and a brilliant smile replaced his pensive frown. "Well, hop on in then."

"Look," Emma started off, taking a cautious step forwards, "I don't know where I am, or how I got here- but I was just attacked by a monster and pushed through some portal thing. If you think I'm just going to get into some boat with some stranger-"

He raised his eyebrows and quickly cut her off, "You're wounded. There's a bad tempered crocodile in these parts, not to mention the sirens- so how about you just get in the boat. Unless you'd like to stay here." He paused and looked around, his lip wrinkling in distaste, "It's a bit dingy though, don't really see the appeal."

Frowning, Emma knew he was right. Slowly she made her way over to the boat, and ignoring the other hand he extended to her. One foot at a time, she wobbled into the boat, leaving a morbid, red handprint on the edge of the boat. "Sit there," He indicated to the other side of the boat, not that it was all that big to begin with. She sat, and he pushed off the ledge with one of his oars. It took him some time to turn the boat around towards the exit, but he was a rather efficient rower.

Once they broke out of the cave, and were quite a distance from it, he pulled the oars in. "So, what's your name?" He asked (in an accent Emma believed to be from some part of Britain... or possibly Ireland?), as he stood up. The boat teetered to the side, causing Emma's stomach to drop. As he reached up to the top of the mast, he began to untie the sail.

"Emma."

His fingers worked quickly, and the sail let out and caught the breeze. "Is there a last name that goes with that? Or is it just Emma?"

"Emma _Swan_."

"No need to be so hostile, I was asking a simple question." He grabbed a rope attached to the sail, and looped it around a knob on the side of the boat. "Can you sail, Emma?" His eyes then traveled to her hand, and he pursed his lips. "That can wait. Just sit tight." With one hand on the rope and the other on the tiller, he began to move the boat so as to best catch the wind. "If I say boom, duck as quickly as you can."

Emma frowned, "Why?"

The young man gave her a look, "Because that's the sound your head will make when that bar," He nodded at the rod attached to the lower end of the sail, "smacks you in the head."

_Delightful_. Emma thought, surly despite the fact she was aware she was being rescued. After a long stretch of silence, she finally decided she was being a _touch_ unfair. "So... what's your name?"

He looked away from the horizon for a moment to look at her, and that brilliant smile was back- it made Emma uneasy, and she didn't know why. "I thought you weren't going to ask! It's- _boom!_"

"Wha-" Emma began to ask but remembered to duck. The boom swung over where her head had been, as they began to change direction slightly, towards the shore. "Your name is Boom?" She asked skeptically, once he told her she could sit up again.

He laughed, "No, no." He pulled the rope in his hand, causing the sail to tighten against the wind. "My name is Killian Jones."


	4. Tiptoe

Author's note: So I'm writing this before/without the whole Killian-might-be-Peter concept in mind. But since this is an AU piece and the episode hasn't aired yet, I guess I can get away with it. Don't hate me! haha. Also, the characterizations of both Emma and Killian are based off the fact that they were probably _slightly_ less broken when they were younger. So they're not 100% the same as when they got older (especially since Emma hasn't had her whole Neal experience yet).

* * *

**Chapter Four: Tiptoe**

As they began to get closer to the shore, Emma was convinced she was going to vomit. Nautical travel was _clearly_ not her thing, and the pain coming from the slices all over her hands were so incredibly painful she feared she might pass out. There were also assorted welts and scrapes all over her legs, and an ugly black bruise developing on her ankle.

Killian had remained rather quiet as they approached the shore, glancing at her every now again (mostly at her hand). As they nearly reached land, he reached over and pulled out the centerboard, and set it on Emma's lap. She frowned but decided not to question it. Suddenly there was a bump, causing her to nearly fall into the cockpit, but she steadied herself. "Sorry about that," Killian said with a grin, as he pulled the tiller forwards so the rudder came out of the water. He then slid into the water, which came up to his calves (at best), and began to pull the boat aground. Sand grated against the wood of the ship, and Emma rolled her eyes as he struggled.

Placing the centerboard in the cockpit, she turned and quickly slipped out the boat, her poor boots filling with water once more. They were never going to be the same after this experience. "Ah, thank you." The young man said, pulling the boat with more ease. Emma made a move to help but Killian shook his head, "No, I can do it."

Emma rolled her eyes and moved to the back end of the boat, regardless. "I am perfectly strong." She said as she began to push, wincing as her cuts began to open again (they'd only just stopped bleeding). The boat lurched forwards and was upon the shore within seconds. Emma let go, and quickly tried to wipe off her bloody handprint with her jacket sleeve. It was useless.

"Lass," Killian began in that strange accent of his, but Emma was _not_ having that.

"_Emma_. You're not much older than me, _don't_ patronize me."

Clearly exasperated, he walked over on those lanky legs of his, and walked right up to her and bent down so their faces were inches apart and at eye level. "_Emma_. I'm _sure_ you're a strong girl." His tone implied that his threshold for patience had been reached, "But I like my boat clean and your handprints are all over it. Not only that, but you opened the bloody cuts again!" He caught her wrist, and straightened himself as he brought her hand up between them. There were two deep cuts against her palm, and several against the creases of her fingers. This would be a nightmare to heal, that much Emma knew.

Biting her lip to avoid showing her shame, the blond tugged her wrist free. "I'll go wash it in the water."

"Good. Don't go too deep." He turned and went back to his boat, untying the sails and folding them up expertly against the boat.

As if she was going to go deep. She was probably cured of any desire to go into a deep body of water ever again. Creepy water-demons and crocodiles were not exactly on her 'To See' list, let alone encounter. Blinking back tears of pain as the salt water met her cuts, Emma held her breath and bit her lower lip while she gingerly moved her hand around in the water.

Once she stood up and turned around, Killian had already folded up the sails, and they seemed to have disappeared. "They're in the hull." Emma wasn't exactly what a hull was, but she assumed it was a small compartment in the boat. Where exactly, she wasn't sure, since it was quite tiny. "Come on," There was a softer tone to his voice this time, and he reached out a hand to her, "Let's get you patched up."

Emma stared at his hand for a moment, and stepped to his side, leaving it in midair. "Lead the way."

His expression didn't change, but Emma noticed his smile falter slightly. He led her to a path at the edge of the beach, which suddenly dropped off into a rather dense forest... or jungle. _Where the hell am I?_ Emma thought, her eyebrows furrowing as she followed Killian down a well-used path. He held the lantern in his other hand, and despite her constant reminder of pain in her hand, Emma tried to remain calm. "So what land are you from?" Killian's voice caught her off guard, as she'd been too busy trying not to scream.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Obviously this was America, right? On Earth? Though, given the monster and lack of any satellites in the sky (Emma checked as they sailed), she had a sinking feeling that might not be the case.

"Well, you're not from around these parts." He offered, taking a sharp turn and gently tugging her jacket sleeve so she went with him. He let go almost instantly, but the contact caused the hairs on her arm to stand on end.

"I, uh..." _Focus!_ "I'm from America? I'm living near Boston."

"America..." He murmured, as if the word was alien to him. Surely he was joking.

Emma had to make sure: "Where exactly is... here?"

"Neverland."

"Of _course_, and _Snow White_ is my mother." Emma scoffed, rolling her eyes at all this madness that was going on. She _had_ to be in a dream, there was no way there were this many fairytale loving weirdos that she had the chance of encountering in one day.

Though, there was that monster. _That_ was not normal. "I'm not really sure who Snow White _is_, but I can assure you that this is Neverland. Home of the Lost Boys, fairies, mermaids and Peter Pan." The last two words were more of a mumble, and Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Peter-" Before she could ask, they walked into a small clearing. There was a small cabin to the left side of this clearing (no more than twenty-five feet wide), and a significantly large fireplace in the center, with a large pot hanging over it. It was burning at a low ember, and Killian instantly set to putting some logs upon it and arranging it until it began to come back to life. Emma, feeling quite useless and in pain, hovered behind him until disappeared into the cabin. He came out hold a dark bottle and some strips of white cloth. He sat down on a log beside the fire, and motioned for her to join him. She did so gingerly, sitting two feet away.

"What's in that?" She asked suspiciously, nodding her head at the bottle as he spread out the strips on his bent legs, and bit off the cork of the bottle.

"Rum."

"Aren't you a little young for that?" Emma's experience with alcohol was very limited, since she never frequented the party scene... ever.

He laughed, "It's for your hand." She held it out for him, and his eye brows raised for a moment. He placed his own warm hand under hers (Emma was unsure what kind of support he was intending), and poured the liquid all over her wounds. It burned upon contact, causing Emma to yelp and as she attempted to pull her hand away, his grip tightened. She bit her lower lip as he put the bottle down and began to pick up the strips of cloth. His fingers worked slowly and gently, and Emma looked up at his face only to realize he'd done the same.

Half his face was illuminated by the fire, and flecks of orange flight danced across his eyes. Her heart's pace began to build in momentum, and her breath was caught in her throat. She was never one to be swayed by something so petty as a person's appearance (since looks were always deceiving), but she was so tired and scared, the fire was so warm, and he was very handsome...

_No._ The firm, reasonable voice in her head cut her off. Breaking his gaze to look at the fire, within several moments his work on her hand was done. Pushing her boots off with her feet, she nudged them next to the fire. Perhaps they'd dry and return to normal? "You hungry?" Emma jumped slightly, cut off from the process of taking her jacket off (so it could dry too).

She hadn't really given her stomach much thought this entire time, but at the mere mention of food her stomach began to growl. "Yeah." She said, her heart finally reaching its usual pace. The reality of her situation was beginning to sink in. Not only was she incredibly unaware of where she was (despite Killian's assertions that it was _Neverland_), she had no money of any kind. Even if she could manage to find herself a restaurant or hotel or _anything_ she wouldn't be able to pay. She was lost, and had to depend on this boy no older than she was for her survival.

And that was terrifying.

Emma hated relying on people, since it always gave them too much power over her. That, and they could abandon her at any time and she'd be screwed. She wasn't even sure if he was intending on keeping her around, perhaps he meant for her to leave the next morning... or even tonight.

She watched him go over a few paces away and pick up a metallic bucket, its contents sloshed around as he walked. "I had a really good haul today, so you're very lucky." Lucky was not a word Emma would use, but she held her tongue. There was a hook, about the size of a hand lying near the fire, which he grabbed as soon as he was next to it. He used it to scoop at something in the bucket, and pulled out a writhing lobster. Moving so quick that Emma almost missed it, he placed the writhing creature in the pot, which Emma soon realized was already filled with water. Within moments he'd put another lobster in there. "Lobsters aren't very easy to come by, so I got real lucky with these two."

Emma couldn't help but smile slightly, his near unbeatable cheeriness was beginning to get to her. That or she was still rattled by the moment that transgressed earlier. "I've never had lobster." It was a luxury not available for a foster child, and she wasn't going to pass up the chance now.

"Ah! So you can talk! You know, most people would find your silence slightly off-putting but..." He shrugged and grinned, mumbling something she didn't catch.

"I was adjusting..." Emma said, slightly mortified at her behavior. While she obviously did not trust this strange boy, she couldn't help but feel bad for how poorly she behaved. "Thank you, for saving me and all..."

As steam rose from the pot, squeals from the lobster gave Emma goosebumps, but she did her best not to let it show. "It was strange, I must admit." He sat down next to her, and Emma tried not to move away this time. He looked at her, and began to explain with hand motions: "There I was on my boat, doing some... fishing." There was a slight hesitation on the word fishing, which made Emma raise an eyebrow. He was lying. She could always tell when someone lied, and she was being lied to. What had he really been doing? "I saw a flash of light at Skull Rock, which was quite strange. Then there was the screaming..." In a sudden movement he bent down and his pointer finger lightly grazed her ankle, where the bruise from the monster's grip had darkened. "I'm assuming a siren got you?"

Fighting a new wave of goosebumps, Emma raised an eyebrow. "I'm not really sure what a siren is."

"Human-like. Very sharp teeth. They're usually quite beautiful in the day, but at _night_ they become horrific." Their eyes met, but there was a noise in the distance and his entire posture changed. His back went rigid, and his eyes snapped to the tree-line surrounding them. His hand had made a reflexive movement to his tall boots, where he pulled out a surprisingly long knife. "Emma," His voice had gone low, and her blood went cold, "Please go into the cabin."

"Why-"

"-Just go, please." Frowning, Emma grabbed her coat and boots and jogged over to the cabin. The door opened slowly, and she closed it behind her. A single candle lit the entire thing, and it was hardly very large, and clearly hand-made. Woodworking tools lay in a pile in the corner, and there was a small table, two chairs, a huge shelf and a large bed. This was the closest Emma had ever seen to Spartan living. Putting her jacket on one of the chairs, and boots by the door, she walked over to the shelf. There were a variety of objects, including many scrolls of what appeared to be maps.

The door burst open behind her, causing her to jump (for what felt like the hundredth time that night), and Killian marched in with a bowl with the two now ruby-red lobsters. He put the bowl on the table, and then proceeded to shut the door, placing a huge bar of wood to keep it from opening. "Let's eat." He said, as if nothing had ever happened.

Emma slowly sat down, and regarded him closely. He was breathing rather heavily, and his hands shook slightly. "What happened out there?"

The young man exhaled, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "These woods aren't safe at night." It almost felt like he was lying, but Emma did get the impression that there was something lurking in these woods he was afraid of.

Sitting in this windowless cabin, Emma couldn't help but feel very uneasy herself. She couldn't trust Killian, but she didn't exactly _distrust_ him. "You're not going to tell me what it is." She commented, as he began to twist off the claws off his lobster.

"Not tonight, no." Killian said, pausing to look at her expectantly. "Pull the claws off."

It took some work, but Emma followed Killian as he slowly taught her how to break apart a lobster and eat it. It was sort of repulsive, but the actual meat was pretty good, and Emma found herself enjoying it by the end. "This is so good!" She exclaimed, "No wonder it's so expensive."

"Lobster? Expensive?" Killian looked genuinely amused, and Emma reminded herself that she wasn't exactly in Boston anymore.

"It's worth a lot back at home." She explained, as she finished sucking the meat out of the final little leg of the lobster.

"Strange." He'd finished awhile ago, and had merely been sitting with her while she finished. Despite her reservations, Emma found herself growing comfortable with him. She knew it was foolish, but she couldn't help herself. He'd been so kind and helpful up until this point, it was almost too good to be true.

And with that her euphoria ended abruptly. It _was_ too good to be true. "Killian," He seemed surprised as she addressed him, "How can I get home?"

He didn't react at first, but his mouth slowly became a frown. "I suspect you'll need another portal."

"Where can I find another?"

"You can't."

"Why not?"

He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, "They don't really exist." And with that, any trust for him Emma had was gone. She knew he was lying.


	5. Kingdom Come

Author's Note: So this is a really weak chapter, I'm so sorry! I'm going on vacation until the 5th of June but then I'll be free all summer to work on this. Anyway, again this is AU. I'm trying to bring the finale of season 2 into this as best I can but since we know close to nothing about Neverland I'm just going to keep doing my own thing.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Kingdom Come**

A light breeze touched Emma's arm, and she slowly opened her eyes. _It was all a dream_, she told herself. Unfortunately, the wooden ceiling, and lumpy mattress were still there. She tilted her head and found the source of the breeze: her strange rescuer, lightly snoring away less than a foot away. Originally they'd set up pillows (Emma still didn't know why he had so many) as a barrier between them, since neither was sleeping outside, nor did either of them feel inclined to sleep on the floor. The pillows were largely ineffective, since Emma's arm was slung across the 'barrier' and her hand nearly touched Killian's nose. His leg also made its way across, and his foot touched her own.

Emma could feel her face burning, and she closed her eyes. _Pretend it's Carlos. He's had a bad dream, it's just Carlos._ Her heart began to race, and she felt her body tense as she attempted to remain still. This was _not_ like sleeping with little Carlos on his bad nights. Carlos was young and innocent. Killian was three times his age (at least), and certainly had a certain... sultriness to him that really was unnerving.

He looked a lot younger as he slept, Emma couldn't help but remark as she opened her eyes again and looked at him. Why not stare? He wasn't horrible to look at and he would never-

His blue eyes opened, catching Emma mid-stare with her hand just in front of his face. _They're so blue_. Emma found herself internally remarking, only to then feel her entire face heat up like an oven. A slow, deliberate smirk spread across his face and she felt him begin to wiggle his toes against her foot. "Morning, Beautiful." She jerked both her hand and foot away, sitting up with a slight smile that she couldn't quite contain. It was wholly involuntary, after all, she couldn't trust him.

Killian laughed, and rolled off the bed. "Don't do that again." Emma said, not quite sure what she was exactly referring to.

She awkwardly got up and stood there feeling rather bothered. She was still wearing her dress, but Killian had given her an extra pair of his shorts ("From when I was a young lad"), that were still a bit loose, but mostly fit. He opened the front door and went outside, and Emma quickly pulled the shorts off. They made wearing her dress uncomfortable, and Killian had promised her last night that they could go find her some more clothes.

Frankly, Emma would be content just to wear some of his loose shirts and whatnot, but she had a feeling she wouldn't fit into anything. Leaving her boots inside, Emma gingerly walked outside. The grass was soft, and there didn't seem to be anything immediately sharp for her to cut her feet on. Killian had disappeared, causing Emma to frown. Surely he wasn't abandoning her? He'd left her at his cabin after all, she didn't quite understand...

The forest (or jungle) surrounding her was rather quiet, which Emma found rather odd. What kind of densely wooded area was so seemingly still? Her body began to tense, and she moved backwards towards the cabin. This place gave her the creeps more in the day than in the night, and that was saying _something_. "Killian?" She called out apprehensively, hating herself for the weakness she was displaying. It wasn't like she was incapable of defending herself, but... her hand was still sore, and she really didn't want to open the wounds again.

Silence.

Going back into the cabin, Emma put on her boots. They were still damp and it was very uncomfortable, but she wasn't walking barefoot. Granted, she had no idea what direction to go in. Maybe she could go out into the trees and circle around the opening?

"Killian?" Her voice was less assertive, as she passed the tree-line and into the forest. It grew darker, and flecks of sunlight created patterns on her skin. The quiet was stifling, and Emma grew very conscious of her footsteps on the leafy floor. It felt like she was the only one around for miles, and it was strange.

She heard a noise in the distance, something like a voice. _Must be Killian_. She thought, tromping off in that direction. There was a large patch of sunlight filtering to the forest floor, highlighting a large dark shape by a tree. Upon approaching Emma realize it was a person tied to a tree. Freezing, she glanced around. Was this some kind of trap? Were there bandits in these woods or something?

The person, or rather young boy, wiggled in his bonds and turned his large brown eyes in Emma's direction. He was gagged and attempted to say something to her. Without further hesitation, Emma ran over and gently untied the gag. "Are you all right?" She gasped, walking to the back of the tree to try and untie the rope that had the boy bound.

"He ambushed me." The boy said, quite breathless. She felt him writhe against the ropes, but it was no use. The knot was expertly tied, and Emma was unsure how she was going to free him.

"Who did?" Emma asked, looking for a sharp rock to saw at the rope with or perhaps a stick to wedge the knot loose.

The boy exhaled, "Killian. Bloody pirate he is." Emma's body involuntarily tensed, and she leaned over to look at the boy. He didn't seem to be lying. She slowly walked back to the front. "Emma, don't trust him. He's evil and-"

"How do you know my name?"

This question caught the boy off-guard and his cheeks reddened. "Peter sent me to come get you." The girl frowned, he couldn't possibly mean Peter Pan? "Anyway, there's a knife tied behind my calf. Cut a boy loose, would'ya?" His accent was drastically more evident than with Killian, and _distinctly_ English.

She pulled his trouser sleeve up and there it was, tied with a lashing of leather. It could not be comfortable there. She pulled it out the sheath and began to saw at the ropes, which was a lot harder than she thought it would be. "How does Peter know I'm here?" She asked, wishing her wounded hand had not been her dominant hand. She'd be so much more efficient with it.

The boy didn't answer immediately, "That's for him to explain." Hardly a satisfactory answer, but he didn't seem to be lying about it. "I'm Skipper." He gave her a small smile that was about as devilish as it was cute, she knew that look: _troublemaker._ "You know, you're a lot prettier than I expected."

"Um, thanks?" Emma said, making her way halfway through the rope. The whole fact that she had been _expected_ at all was very troublesome, let alone the fact that her savior had a dark side she was very unaware of. Tying up a young boy to a tree? What was Killian going to do, leave Skipper here to starve? Kill him?

The final thought sent a chill up her spine, and she gasped with relief once she finally undid the rope and Skipped jumped up from the tree. He barely came up to her chin and his wild brown hair was all over the place, he could not have been any older than twelve. "I'll take that." Before she even knew what was happening, the knife was out of Emma's hands and back into the sheath behind the boy's leg. He grabbed Emma's hand and placed them on top of each other and stared straight into her eyes, standing on his tip-toes for emphasis. "Emma, I'm going to go tell Peter you arrived. Just stay-"

"Emma?" Killian's worried voice carried through the trees, causing Skipper to suddenly move into a crouched position, ready to bolt.

"I have to go." Skipper's brown eyes focused on hers, "_Don't trust the pirate_." And with that the boy bolted into the trees.

Rattled, Emma left the rope behind and jogged in the direction of Killian's voice (which was growing in both concern and volume). She nearly crashed into him after tripping on a rock, and he caught her in his arms.

Fighting to stand up and free herself, Emma did not know what to say. "Thank you."

"Where were you? Are you hurt?" He was obviously upset, but there was an edge in his voice that Emma didn't like. It made her nervous.

"I'm sorry- I, uh, had to go to the bathroom." The lie was so weak and Emma had a feeling Killian was aware.

He frowned, "Well, I got breakfast so let's walk back." He didn't offer her his hand as he had before and as she walked behind him, Emma couldn't help but notice how tense his shoulders were. What made matters worse was how his hands were clenched into fists.

There was clearly some kind of bad blood between Killian, Skipper and possibly the mysterious Peter. As they entered the clearing, realization hit Emma so quickly she gasped out loud. The silver hook, lying by the fireside where it had been left the night before, glinted in the sunlight. It felt malevolent to Emma, who had realized who she was dealing with.

_Captain Hook._

But how? Killian was so young and... not the weird looking thing Captain Hook was portrayed as in the movies. Maybe he was an apprentice and not a deadly pirate with very few morals...

No. That couldn't be true. But Skipper's words hung in her mind: _Don't trust the pirate_.


	6. Nothing Left to Say

Back from my vacation- I intended for this to be longer, but I need the plot to be set into motion. If you're wondering where the Captain Swan stuff will come in, don't worry! It will happen, just slowly.

* * *

**Chapter Six - Nothing Left to Say**

Breakfast was tense and Emma wished she has been gifted with better acting skills. Neither she nor Killian seemed to able to think of anything to say. The minutes stretched on, until the young man cleared his throat: "I found you some new clothes."

Emma blinked in surprise, "Oh! Thank you..."

He opened his mouth to say something, and judging by his expression he was in earnest, but ended up thinking better of it and closed his mouth. "How is your hand doing?" He finally asked, gently taking her hands and quickly untying the strips of cloth securing the wound. His fingers were cool and despite how ambivalent she felt about him, shivers went down Emma's spine. To her surprise the wound had nearly healed, with only some light scabbing. Killian frowned and looked her in the eye, "Do you have magic?" His voice was soft and almost... frightened.

Emma slowly raised her eyebrows, "Magic." Granted, she couldn't deny the fact that her wound had fully healed in a remarkably short period of time. But maybe that was a Neverland quality? Emma had nothing to do with it.

"Usually wounds don't heal this quickly unless you have magic." Killian said slowly, a look entering his blue eyes that Emma couldn't quite register. "Interesting."

She didn't like the way he said that. Pulling her hand away, Emma cleared her throat, "I'm not magical. There's no magic where I come from."

Killian regarded her for a moment, then stood up. "Right, lets get you some clothes."

Taken aback by the sudden change in conversation, Emma slowly stood up beside him, reeling in emotional whiplash. "I thought you said you found them?"

A small smile was her response. "Yes, but acquiring them is another matter."

Emma followed Killian along the path to his boat. It was covered in leaves, which was rather strange, but Emma chose not to question it for the moment. At this point she decided nothing made sense here anyway. However, she winced at her bloody handprint (now dried and browned) from when she first entered the boat.

What was she supposed to do now? This was both and existential and literal question. As Killian pulled the sails out of a compartment in the boat's hull that Emma hadn't been aware of, she got the impression this wouldn't be a simple endeavor. Hopefully, she was wrong.

Within several minutes, the boat was ready to sail, and Emma took her boots off to help Killian push it into the water. "So, where exactly are we going?" She asked, as she climbed into the boat. It rocked from her weight, but settled out once Killian subsequently climbed in.

"Home of the fairies," He said lightly, though his expression was significantly more grim.

"Where Tinkbell lives?" She was just throwing out the only name she knew of relevance to both fairies and Neverland, and was only half serious.

Killian's eyes narrowed, ""How do you know about her?" They glided along the calm water smoothly, and Emma wondered how to respond.

"There's a story where I come from..." She started, worried that she might be upsetting some kind of time continuum. "She and Peter Pan are in it. They fight Captain Hook?" _Who might be you._ The blond thought, frowning at her dark haired companion.

"You mean Davy Jones." Killian said, his expression relaxing somewhat as he leaned back.

"No," Emma insisted, "Captain _Hook._"

He raised an eyebrow, "Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Exasperated, Emma threw her hands in the air. "No, his name is Captain Hook- he has a hook for a hand!"

"Never heard of him." Killian said with a shrug. "I think I'd remember a man with a hook for a hand. It's rather distinctive." He pulled the tiller close to him, "Boom!"

Emma was significantly quicker this time, and watched the boom swing across the boat. She moved to the other side of the boat slowly. They were approaching a small island, not too far from a giant land mass. Both the island and land mass were completely forested with huge green trees that seemed to reach for the sky. On the horizon, to their left, Emma noticed a large black object, which she assumed was a ship. "What's that?" She asked while pointing at it.

Killian took a moment to locate what she was referring to. "Oh, the Jolly Roger." _Why is that name so familiar?_ Emma thought, staring out across the waters at the dark shape. "We're here."

After pulling the boat ashore and rolling up the sail, Killian instructed Emma to wear her boots. "Fairies were never fond of intruders, especially those that could walk." As they walked into a dense forest, Emma quickly understood what he was talking about. Shards of what looked to be glass were littered everywhere, jagged and sharp. They stuck out of the ground, logs, nearly everything, and Emma was terrified of tripping over and impaling herself. There were multiple rocks and logs to climb over, and Killian offered her his hand each time.

As the journey went on, Emma noticed how withdrawn Killian was. Something was on his mind, and Emma had a feeling it didn't have to do with Skipper. Granted, she had no way of knowing. This went on for at least a half an hour, until they suddenly came into a clearing. Trees with ivy crawling all over them surrounded the circle, each with various holes all over them and small white mushrooms at their base. What confused Emma was the stillness of this area, "Where are the fairies?" Emma's voice resonated loudly, harsh against the prevailing silence.

"Gone." Killian's voice was at a low whisper, and he lightly touched her hand. "This way." Avoiding his hand, Emma walked beside him.

"What happened to them?" She asked, keeping her voice at the same volume as his. This place was incredibly eerie and she wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

"Peter Pan happened." They reached a small but human-sized hut at the edge of the clearing. Killian paused at the door, his expression softened. He gingerly pushed on the door and it swung open easily.

It wasn't until he loudly exhaled that Emma realized Killian had been holding his breath, as he exhaled rather loudly. Inside the cabin was a small room, with a make up very similar to Killian's. Sketches were pinned to the walls, and while her companion searched the contents of a rustic chest of drawers, Emma gravitated towards them. They were beautiful.

Most of them were of fairies clearly, given the tiny detailed wings and pointed ears. A few were portraits of young boys, Emma assumed they were the Lost Boys. One boy, about fourteen perhaps, was frequently drawn. Strong eyebrows, with a wicked grin and slightly pointed ears... he looked very familiar, could it be Peter Pan? She glanced at Killian, whose ears, she noted, had a distinctive point to them.

"Who lived here?" Emma asked as she glanced at a sketch of a girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen years in age. She was beautiful, dark hair, strong cheekbones and a fierceness in her eyes that Emma couldn't help but like. She noticed the corner of the drawing was bent and lifted it off the wall. _Tiger Lily - M._ The words were scribbled in the same confident strokes as the sketches, so Emma assumed that M had been the resident of this cabin and the artist.

She hadn't even noticed that Killian hadn't responded, "The Lost Girl, Milah." There was a detachment in his voice, which Emma decided not to remark upon. There were probably several reasons he sounded like that, and none of them were her business. Though, that didn't stop her curiosity. "She left a long time ago."

"Wait- how'd she leave?" Emma asked, _maybe I could leave the same way?_ She thought, her mood brightening.

"I don't want to talk about it." His tone implied the subject was closed, which grated on Emma's nerves.

She walked over to the young man, "She left Neverland, right?" Crossing her arms and staring down at his squatted figure, she continued, "Maybe I could go the same w-"

He practically jumped into a standing position, his expression fierce. "She used one of the last beans to leave. There are none left!" His eyes however, moved to the side, a tic Emma instantly recognized.

"You're _lying_!" She exclaimed, "I can tell when people are lying to me-" She leaned in close, "So cut the crap, and tell me what happened to Milah and _how_ I can get home."

He was visibly grinding his teeth and a muscle in his jaw indicated Emma had touched a nerve. "Hundreds of years ago, a Lost Boy came and took a shine to Milah. He tricked Tinkerbell into betraying Peter Pan, and then used a magic bean to take Milah away with him." His nostrils flared and Emma _knew_ she'd gone into dangerous territory. "There are only two remaining beans in Neverland and Peter Pan has them, so you might as well get used to your newfound immortality because you _can't_ leave." In his fist he held a shirt, which he then shoved in her direction. "_That_ should fit." He muttered before storming outside, with the door closing loudly behind him.

Holding the shirt in her slightly shaking hands, Emma took a deep breath. So, Peter Pan had the beans. Surely he would give one to her? Peter Pan was a hero after all. Emma went through the drawers and found a pair of trousers that also fit. She changed and examined herself in the surprisingly ornate mirror. The shirt was cream colored, with loose sleeves and did not flatter her at all. Tucked into the pants they were slightly better, but Emma distinctly felt like she looked like a page at a bad Renaissance fair. She picked out a few other articles of clothing and walked outside.

Killian paced slowly, at the other end of the clearing. Emma stopped and regarded him from this distance, too far to fully see his expression. He obviously cared a lot for Milah, and it was probably really hard for him to go back to the memory. Emma suddenly wished she hadn't been so callous. It was just hard for her to relate. There had never been anyone in her life she felt so strongly about, except for little Carlos perhaps.

As she walked over, Killian's furrowed brows and piercing gaze stopped the apology she'd been forming in her throat. He was so _angry_. They walked through the forest in silence, and Emma nearly fell several times before Killian came to her side. "I'm sorry for being so pushy." Emma blurted out as Killian took some of the clothes she'd been carrying from her. "I just... I don't know where I am, I'm..." She knew the words she wanted to say, but struggled to vocalize them. Emma never expressed any vulnerability, it just was something she never could do. But she felt that in this one instance, it was necessary. "Scared."

Emma watched his eyebrows slowly relax, and the tense line his mouth had been in broke. "You didn't know." He said shifting the clothes to his other arm, so he could hold her by the elbow. "Let's get you back in one piece."

Killian grew more jovial as they sailed back to his hideout, though Emma felt the opposite. She was essentially stranded in some weird world, where she was wanted by Peter Pan but she wasn't exactly sure if he was the character portrayed in the story and movie she'd seen growing up. And there was the whole issue with Skipper that had never been discussed, it was certainly something she needed to ask Killian about.

But, despite all this, she couldn't help but feel like something had transgressed between her and the mysterious young man she was staying with. She couldn't really say what it was, though she knew she couldn't help but think he meant well.

And that realization led to a further, and more unsettling discovery, she almost trusted him. Emma never trusted anyone, given her short lifetime of disappointments and broken dreams, Killian was possibly one of the first people in a long time she'd begun to believe in. This bothered her. She'd only known him for a day or so, there was the chance she was wrong about him.

The night fell, and Emma found herself sitting by the fire as Killian boiled some starchy green vegetables that smelled like potatoes. "How did Milah end up with the fairies?" Emma finally asked, since it had been something she couldn't quite wrap her head around. "I thought they hated walking... folk."

Killian handed her a bowl with the boiled vegetables, which Emma stabbed with a fork and practically inhaled. He sat down beside her with his own bowl, "Fairies are very vain. When they discovered Milah's talent for drawing, they invited her to live with them."

"Huh." Emma murmured aloud, setting her empty bowl on her lap.

"Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn't it?" Killian suddenly said, causing Emma's heart to nearly stop in her chest. He took a huge fork-full of the green vegetable and chewed it purposefully, staring her down.

Fighting the slight panic at being completely sussed out, Emma tried to regulate her breathing pattern (which seemed to have briefly halted). "What makes you say that?"

He gave her a small smile, "You have a look about you. All the Lost Boys have it." His eyes bore into hers, with that intensity of the prior night when they sat by the fire.

She bit her lower lip, "You're fishing."

He didn't respond and stood up. "I'm going to, you know, wee. Stay here." As Killian walked off to relieve himself, Emma stared into the fire.

A look about herself? What did that even mean? _You can't just look at someone and think they look under-loved._ It was an emotional hurt, not a physical manifestation. Though, the fact he'd guessed so accurately it gave her chills.

Her thoughts were immediately stopped when the fire suddenly went out, as if a giant shadow have passed over it and all that was left was a small column of smoke. Given the New Moon there was no light, and panic quickly crept into Emma's heart. Despite this, she stayed seated, still. Killian would be back soon.

Moments dragged on and there was no noise. "Killian?" Emma called out, knowing it couldn't take him that long. Silence. Standing up, the blond decided her best course of action would be to move to the cabin. Light filtered through the open door, giving Emma a sense of comfort as she moved towards it.

That feeling evaporated as a giant shadowy figure appeared before her, blocking her path. It had bright glowing eyes, long gangly limbs, and was half see-through. Emma wanted to scream but no noise came out, and she stood frozen in shock and fear. It reached for her, and she came to her senses. Turning to run in the other direction, she only got a few paces before something grabbed her hair.

Yelping in pain, Emma tried to wrestle her hair out of the shadow-creature's grip. It refused to give, and wrapped its other hand around her mouth, with a shockingly strong grip. It quickly blocked off both her mouth and nose, and Emma's brain began to get fuzzy. Where was Killian? As the shadow's grip tightened around her waist (upon releasing her hair), she knew she was going to pass out. It felt like she was floating on air... except, she noted dully, they really were flying.

Black dots appeared across her vision, and Emma passed out.

* * *

So I really wanted Milah in this story. Killian doesn't seek revenge (yet), but it is very important to his character and will not be ignored as time goes on. Again, I started this before the finale so I'm kind of rolling with some of my original ideas. I do have most of the plot planned out, so there is an end planned! Haha! Anyway, reviews are always welcome! Also, on tumblr I have a few images and things for SOMY. My tumblr name is the same as my FF one, so it should be easy to find!


	7. If I Lose Myself

**Chapter Seven: If I Lose Myself**

Soft. She was lying on something soft.

Not quite ready to open her eyes, Emma moved her hands around. _A bed?_ She wondered, her head still foggy. Her body ached, and ever so slowly, she opened her eyes.

A domed wooden ceiling hung above her, with faint lighting coming from two glass lamps attached to both sides of the room. She blinked until her eyesight cleared, and the excess fluid that had been blurring her vision collected at the corner of her eyes, and slowly rolled down her cheeks.

Or that's what she tried to tell herself those tears were. Staying on her back, Emma didn't move her body. Her eyes, however, roamed. The room seemed to be carved out of a tree- or that was the impression she got, from the rough edges and rounded shape of the tiny room. It appeared barren, save for the doubt bed and the two lamps.

Slowly sitting up, Emma winced at the sudden pounding in her head. _Where am I?_ She thought, attempting to piece together what had happened. She was sitting at the campfire, Killian left, and... the mere thought of the Shadow made Emma's blood turn cold, and she swallowed as she attempted to stand. Gingerly, she stood up, using the wooden walls for support. She felt shaky and worried.

Making her way to the rounded door, Emma tried the giant black door-handle. Locked. It didn't even budge. After several minutes of simply standing, Emma finally managed to calm down and regain some vestige of her strength. She slammed her fist against the door, and it remained perfectly still. All it did was cause her hand significant pain. Swearing and holding her hand, Emma stepped backwards.

What was this room? Some kind of weird prison cell? It was almost making her claustrophobic, the lack of windows, and enclosing walls. She took a deep breath, unsuccessfully trying to calm down. "It's fine, Emma, you're fine." Her attempts to calm herself only made her more upset. _Weapon- I need a weapon._ Whatever or whoever was holding her was bound to make an appearance at some point, and Emma did _not_ want to be unarmed.

But the room was barren. The bed- more like mattress, lay flat on the ground. That was it. Wait. She glanced down at her hips. The belt! It wasn't much, but it could certainly cause some damage- enough for her to escape? Escaping _what_ was the real question.

Slipping the belt off her hips, the trousers she was wearing became a little loose. Clearly Milah was more curvaceous. Impatient, Emma sat on the bed, her hand clapping against her thigh in frustration. The noise, oddly enough, caused the lights to slightly increase in brightness. At any other time Emma wouldn't have noticed, but in this small room any changes were hard to ignore.

Tentatively, she clapped her hands together once. The lights brightened. Eyebrows furrowed, Emma got up slowly to examine the light to her right. Inside the semi-opaque glass she vaguely made out the shape of the light, and it was surprisingly compressed at the bottom of the lamp. It didn't look like a flame, given its lack of movement; but nor was it electricity, since Emma had the distinct impression that there wasn't any in this world. She could be wrong, of course. But the lamp didn't radiate any heat whatsoever, which was very unusual. She clapped her hands twice.

What appeared to be a pile of light at the bottom of the lamp shifted slightly, but not in the flickering motion of a flame. Perplexed, Emma reached out to unscrew the glass from the lamp. Surprisingly it came off easily, and she was right about the lack of electricity.

Lying on the flat metallic bottom of the lamp lay a tiny person, barely bigger than her palm. It had limp nearly clear wings, with the slightest green tint to them. Its dark skin shimmered as if covered in a glittery, golden powder. A fairy.

But it looked... dead. Emma brought her eyes close to inspect it. The fairy was female, with delicate features and a surprisingly large bust. Her eyes were closed, and it was difficult to tell if she was breathing or not. Gingerly, Emma prodded the fairy's leg with her pinky finger. The fairy twitched and her jade-green eyes fluttered open. "Are you all right?" Emma asked, awkwardly trying to stay on her tip toes to remain at eye level.

The fairy sighed, barely audible. "K-keep... clapping..." Her voice was soft like a light breeze across grass, a sound Emma was unaware could be replicated vocally.

Confused but convinced she'd heard right, Emma stood back. She began to clap slowly and pulses of light from the fairy convinced her to clap faster, until a steady and bright glow came from the fairy. Emma stood on her tip toes again and saw the fairy sitting up. She flapped her wings a few times and then wobbled to her feet. Emma held out a finger for support, and to her surprise, the fairy simply climbed on.

"Can you get Rosa?" The fairy pointed at the other lamp, causing Emma to blush- how could she forget?

Walking over, Emma quickly unscrewed the glass and a pale fairy with rusty colored wings was standing in wait. She too climbed on Emma's hand with the other fairy, and Emma quickly replaced the glass. The room was now significantly brighter, purely coming from the glowing fairies on her palm. The fairies embraced, and despite how tiny their features were, Emma could tell they were crying. They sat, and looked up at Emma with their glittering eyes. The fairy Emma originally rescued spoke up first, "My name is Vera."

"I'm Rosa." Unlike Vera, Rosa's voice oddly reminded Emma of crackling leaves on an autumn day.

"I-I'm Emma." She didn't know why she stuttered, but meeting creatures she previously thought didn't exist probably had something to do with it.

Rosa sighed with what seemed to be happiness and lay down on Emma's palm, the silky fabric of her dress felt like water. "So warm." The fairy cooed, "And so pure."

Vera nodded, lying back on her back. "Your magic is so powerful, Emma." She wiggled into a comfortable position, "It's healing us so quickly."

Emma raised an eyebrow, "I don't have any magic." Though, they were probably better experts on the subject than she was. "I mean- I don't think I do."

Rosa rolled around on Emma's palm like a dog in the dirt, "Oh but you _do_. It's so warm and-"

"-Pure!" Vera concluded and they giggled. "You're so full of magic, I bet you hardly even feel us using it to heal."

They were leeching off her? Emma almost felt indignant, but stopped herself. She _didn't_ feel any different. And she wanted to help them, regardless. "Do you know where I am?" Emma asked, hoping they were more enlightened.

Rosa sat up quickly and sighed, "Peter Pan has you. You're in the tree he lives in." She stood up and twirled around on Emma's palm, so light Emma hardly felt anything. "I like you Emma, don't you Vera?"

Vera nodded, "You should come live with us, Emma!" She got up and began to dance with Rosa, much to Emma's confusion. How could they be so carefree- weren't they just at death's door? Weren't they currently imprisoned? "Human girls always get along with fairies."

"You don't know that. Milah is the only other one we've seen." Rosa countered and they kept dancing.

_Milah_. Of course the fairy home- oh. Were these two not aware of the desertion of their home? The pit in Emma's stomach dropped, as she stared at the two fairies spinning around energetically on her palm. "Uh, fairies-" They stopped suddenly and looked at her with their little eyes, "-I think there's something you should know about your home-" The handle on the door suddenly began to turn loudly, causing Emma and the fairies to all jump.

"We'll hide in your hair!" Rosa squealed, and Emma lifted them to her shoulders. They tickled her scalp as they climbed in, and Emma pulled blond stands on her chest, covering as much of her shoulders with her hair. "Vera- stop glowing!" Emma heard Rosa hiss, and the room went dark.

The door suddenly banged open, shaking the entire room. A tall, gaunt looking boy about her own age strode in. Half his face was hidden under a wall of matted hair, and the eye she could clearly see was brown but lacking any warmth. "Stand." He glanced at the dead lamps, and turned his head to call out in the hallway, "The fairies died. Bring two fresh ones." Emma's blood went cold, and she felt the fairies in her hair fidget. "Come on." He grabbed her wrist roughly and steered her out into the hallway.

"Let _go _of me-" Emma snapped, twisting her arm out of his grip. "_Where_ are you taking me?"

He glared, "_You_ don't get to ask questions, _Girl_." Nevertheless, he didn't grab her wrist again. They walked down a short distinctly hand carved hallway, and into a giant, well-lit room. It was circular, and Emma supposed it would be cozy, if the walls were lined with a small group of lounging boys all under the age of sixteen. There was a soft buzz of conversation around her, as if the boys didn't even notice or care that she was there.

Tall-cyclops finally stepped away from her, leaving her in the middle of the room. There was a giant wooden chair facing her, but it was very empty. The seat was very worn in, suggesting years or even decades of use. In the corner of her eye, Emma spotted Skipper. She tried to make eye-contact with him, but he deliberately looked in the other direction.

"All right lads, clear out!" A voice from behind echoed around the room, and within seconds all the boys were gone. Emma dreaded to look behind her, and kept her eyes facing forwards. She heard the door close behind her, and if the fairies hadn't jumped, she would have forgotten all about them.

She heard rustling and felt something fly over her head, giving her goosebumps (which the fairies tried to soothe on her neck). However a scream escaped her throat when a boy's face suddenly appeared from above her, hanging upside down within inches of her own face. "Hello." Golden, near cat-like eyes stared into her own, almost glowing in the dim light of the room. Pearly white teeth flashed at her in a smile that Emma knew was significantly more wicked than it ought to be. It made her incredibly on edge, and as the boy eased away and landed upright in the chair, she feared her heart would explode from dread and fear.

_This _boy was _not_ the Peter Pan from the stories. Dressed in black, with dark hair and those inhuman eyes, Emma couldn't grasp why _this_ Peter Pan was so... off. He _was_ the boy from those drawings she'd seen in Milah's cabin, but those drawings showed a certain joie-de-vivre and youthfulness that this boy _clearly_ lacked. "I'm sure you know who I am." His voice was playful, but Emma sensed something more ominous lurking below the surface. She nodded, and he clapped his hands, causing the lights to flicker. Emma prayed it hadn't caused Rosa and Vera to do the same. "Well that's _perfect_, because I know who _you_ are too! Emma Swan... so much prettier than I was expecting."

_Why does everyone keep saying that? What does that even have to do with anything?_ Her thoughts were increasingly stressed and irritated, and she frowned. "You're a lot more gothic than _I _was expecting."

He laughed, his voice sounded joyful but there was a tinge of mania to it that could not be more off-putting. His eyes hardened but his smile remained in place, "Like your new room? It must be an upgrade from the little shack Killian had you staying in."

"No, I don't like it." Emma bit back any further vulgarities she wanted to use to describe the claustrophobic room. "I'd actually really prefer it if I could go home-" Peter Pan closed his eyes and lightly shook his head. This caused Emma to forget all fear as rage quickly took over, "-I _need_ to go home!" She exclaimed, gritting her teeth together.

"No." He said casually, standing up and leaping into the air to sail around over her head.

"Why not?" She sputtered, completely confused. He was a _hero- _Peter Pan was a _good_ person!

"My boys need a mother. And I need your magic. Two birds, one stone!"

"I _don't_ have magic."

He looked down at her from his lounging position in the air, "Right. August said you might believe that." He swooped down behind her and Emma felt a sharp pain in her chest. She whirled around to see him tugging at her... shadow.

"This usually works." He muttered, and the pain in her chest continued to grow.

"Stop!" She shouted, and a pulse of energy was released from her core, knocking him against the wall.

His eyes widened with surprise, "Oh- see? You'll make a perfect mother."

"I am _not_ staying here- I'm sixteen, I can't be _anyone's _mother!" She practically screeched, frantically looking about the room for a weapon. This was _insane_. She needed to get out of here before Psycho-Pan did something to her. She needed to stall- what could she stall with? Racking through what she knew of his story, Emma settled for the easiest course: bring up happy memories. "What about Wendy- she didn't want to be the mother either. You let her go. Please, just let me-"

This was _clearly_ the wrong thing to say. "-I _NEVER_ LET HER GO!" His voice was shrill and Emma sucked in her breath. _I'm going to die- he's going to kill me._ There was nothing she could really use- same the glasses on the lamps, but unscrewing them would be time consuming. "DON'T _EVER_ MENTION HER NAME AGAIN!"

Emma bit her lower lip and edged against the wall towards the door. Peter Pan noticed this and whirled on her, coming closer and closer until the door slammed open and Skipper ran in. "It's Jones! He's in close range- part of the tree is already on fire!"

Still visibly seething, Pan quickly flew over and picked up Emma. "I'll deal with you later." He hissed in her ear, and again the fairies in her hair attempted to soothe the goosebumps on her neck. Down hallways and out into the night air, the stench of smoke was overwhelming. Emma choked as she tried to breathe, and within moments she was being shoved into a giant cage sitting a ways from the _giant_ tree she had just been in. There was a clank, and Emma knew she'd been locked in.

Looking around the cage, big enough for an elephant, she was not alone. Boys, mostly under the age of twelve it seemed, sat shivering and obviously unwashed in huddles. One boy stood amongst them, clearly the oldest- possibly even Emma's age, and made his way over to her. He had shoulder length black hair and a very handsome face, and held himself with an air that hinted at nobility of some kind. "Are you all right? Did he take your shadow?" His voice was clearly in the process of breaking, and it instantly endeared him to Emma.

"We'd _know_ if he did, Eric." One of the younger boys stated, pointing weakly at the small sliver of the moon.

Her shadow- that's what Peter Pan had been trying to do, steal her shadow. The handsome boy, Eric, motioned for her to get down on the ground like the others. Breathing was easier here, given the increase of smoke in the air as the fire spread. "What does the moon have to do with anything? What happens when he steals your shadow?"

As if to answer the question, one of the Lost Boys on the outside ran out of the darkness of the forest and where moonlight hit his skin- Emma felt like she was going to be sick. His skin decayed instantly, revealing a skeletal figure that ran towards the blaze. "They can't feel _or_ be killed, unless Pan decides it."

"He _kills_ them?" Emma asked, stunned.

Eric shrugged, and opened his mouth to say something but there was a deafening boom and something smashed into the ground near them. Dirt and debris showered them in the cage, causing significant panic amongst the younger boys. "_Shit_. He's coming." Eric muttered, bringing Emma over to the larger cluster of boys, farthest from the tree.

"Who?" Emma's thoughts were becoming increasingly scrambled, as another deafening explosion went off, and a huge branch of the tree was blasted off.

"Davy Jones." One of the younger boys whispered, tears streaming from his eyes.

That was not good. Emma didn't know who this Davy Jones was, but the phrase 'Davy Jones' locker' _did_ mean something to her. "We need to get out of here." Running her hands through her hair, she plucked out Vera and Rosa. "Can you two get us out of this?" Several boys gasped at the sight of the fairies, but Eric remained steadfast.

Vera glanced around and Rosa coughed as she breathed in the smoke. "We might be able to break that lock." Vera quickly said, looking at all the dirty, caged boys. "Do you all believe in us?" She asked them, and nearly all the boys nodded eagerly. "Then clap!"

Everyone did so heartily, and both fairies flew to the lock, and within moments it popped off.

Emma scrambled to open the door, halting everyone before they made their escape. All the Lost Boys and Pan were heavily distracted, but Emma actually had little idea of where they could flee to. There was the forest to their side and a cliff plunging into the sea behind them. "Can you show us where to go?" Emma asked the fairies, who eagerly nodded. "Follow the fairies." She said to the younger boys, "Take the lead." Emma said to Eric, who nodded. Getting all of them out was a priority for Emma, who despite everything, would always opt to help the greater good over herself. These poor boys, obviously captives of Pan like herself, were in need of her help. And to be perfectly honest, they all reminded her of Carlos in a sense.

Following the last boy, Emma heard her name being called. She turned to find Skipper running at her. Glancing at the group of escaped boys disappearing into the forest- and still out of view from Skipper or any of the Lost Boys- the pit in her stomach dropped and she knew what she had to do. If she ran off with the escapees, she'd reveal them to have escaped. Granted, the empty cage would also be an indicator but- she could stall the inevitable hunting down of Eric and the boys. Another boom echoed in the sky, causing her to move.

Bolting in the opposite direction, Emma knew she just had to keep Skipper distracted from looking at the woods. She could outrun him, loop around and disappear into the woods after everyone else had gotten a good lead. While this seemed like a good plan, there were several things she did not expect.

One, moonlight-zombie Skipper was a far better runner than any twelve year old ought to be. Two, the smoke was becoming horrifically dense, and she was struggling to breathe and see- something that didn't slow down Skipper. She was losing her orientation. And finally, given all these factors, when the zombie-boy's bony hand grazed her elbow, Emma let out a final burst of speed before finding her feet making contact with air.

She didn't even have time to scream as her body hurtled off the cliff and into the inky black waters of the ocean.

* * *

Soooo Peter Pan, huh? LOL. I actually adore Peter Pan, so writing him this way is... hard. xD Granted, there are reasons for Dark!Peter. One of my favorite characters of all Disney time will be introduced next chapter, and also I've been trying to weave Pirates of the Caribbean into this as much as possible. Though, I must say, Davy Jones in this story is _not_ what he is in PotC. Interpret that as you will. Reviews are awesome, and thanks for reading!


	8. Breath of Life

**Chapter Eight: Breath of Life**

Emma slammed into the water shins first, after quickly bending her legs while in the air. The pain was intense, and she struggled to surface with her numb legs and loose shirt slowing down her arms. Gasping for air and choking slightly on the salty water, the blond glanced around her. Everything was so dark, the moon was on the other side of the island so she only had a small slit of light with which to see.

Bile rose in her throat as she thought about what could possibly be lurking in the black waters she was stranded in, and she decided treading water absently was not going to help. Especially since the waves were trying to smash her against the cliff, a death possibly more drawn out and painful than simply drowning.

Kicking off her boots under the water (and internally wishing she didn't have to), Emma began swim. Eventually this cliff had to end, right? And it wasn't like she really had anywhere else to go. Staying in one position was not going to help, especially since she could hear Skipper's shouts at the cliff's edge.

She didn't need some creepy zombies jumping in the water after her, thanks. Moving as quickly as she could, Emma's already loose trousers began to slip. Deciding she didn't have time or energy to bother keeping them on, she pulled them off. _While I'm at it..._ She also pulled off her shirt, hoping this wasn't a big mistake. It freed up her limbs significantly but it didn't take away from the fact that she was a poor swimmer. She also felt colder, with only her bra and underwear to keep her warm. But now she could move.

Staying near the cliff's edge, Emma moved in the direction she assumed the captive boys had escaped in. Within minutes she became tired, as her limbs grew achy and slow. Last she'd checked the moon had been very low in the sky, hopefully that meant-

She looked to the horizon, her heart warming at the dim glow that was beginning to grow upon it. Soon she would be able to see. Sure, she had absolutely no idea where she was going, but at least now she'd be able to find land.

Flipping onto her back, Emma decided conserving her strength until the sun came up was best. She spread her arms out and lay atop the water, rocking with the waves. It wasn't exactly relaxing, as her back felt horrifically exposed, and she knew that sunrise would also increase Peter Pan's chances of finding her.

Within minutes half the sky had lightened, and Emma was so glad for the time she'd escaped. She couldn't imagine spending the entire night in the dark waters of the Neverland ocean.

Turning over once more, Emma continued to move along the cliff's edge. True to her guess, it slowly began to slope downwards. But her limbs were truly sore, and her pace grew slower and slower until she could hardly move. _I can't keep doing this._ She thought frantically, knowing she honestly had no solution. Going near the rocks was risky, not only could she cut herself but the waves would slam her against them, which was not worth it.

Something stroked the bottom of her foot, and Emma screamed, feeling a sudden case of deja vu. "No, no, no!" She squealed, adrenaline giving her a burst of energy forwards. As the sky brightened, the water began to clear slightly around her (it was always crystal clear), though the glare from the sky made it hard to see much. But she distinctly saw a dark shape flash beside her, and she thought she was going to be sick.

She was exhausted, there was no way she could keep moving at this pace- nor could she out-swim this creature even at full strength. Stopping, Emma hoped that possibly remaining still would aid her. Suddenly, something from below her gripped her armpits, and thrust her higher above the surface.

A youthful, gorgeous girl popped her face out of the water, and smiled. She held Emma up, and the blond could feel a giant tail slowly tapping against her legs in an effort to keep them up. "Are you tired?" The mermaid asked, her long red hair pooling around her neck and shoulders, swirling like tentacles.

"I- uh, yes." Emma responded slowly, suspicious but slightly grateful for the mermaid propping her up.

The mermaid seemed rather fascinated with her hair, however, than anything else. "Your hair looks so soft- do you use a dinglehopper?"

Emma squinted her eyes in confusion, "A what?" _Wait, no- this is not important!_ She thought, with a frown. "Are you... you're not going to drown me... right?" At this point, bluntness seemed the best course of action, since she really didn't have the energy to beat around the bush.

The mermaid's lips created a perfect 'o' shape and her already wide eyes became wider with surprise. "Oh no- of course not! I'm not... I don't do that." She bit her lip, "I think we need to get you out of here." She suddenly pulled Emma underwater, wrapping her hands around Emma's mouth and nose. **Don't exhale.** The mermaid's voice echoed in Emma's head, as the blond tried not to die.

The mermaid was looking up at the surface, where a black figure flew past in the air. **Just a little longer, I promise. **The mermaid sounded frightened, and finally, as Emma was convinced she was about to pass out, pulled her out of the water. Emma gulped at the air, and the mermaid held her for support. "Peter is looking for you. We need to go."

"I don't think I can swim anymore." Emma gasped, and the mermaid's mouth made a delicate frown.

"I know, don't worry." The mermaid pulled on a chain around her neck, and procured a small bottle of a strange green powder. "I..." She blushed, "I stole this from the Sea Witch. I know I shouldn't have but... I thought it might come in handy." She uncorked the tiny bottle, and poured the contents on her palm. The powder remained dry, and she quickly blew it in Emma's face.

There was a burning sensation under her ears, and Emma felt that she was suffocating. The mermaid ditched the glass bottle, and pulled Emma underwater. **Breathe.** Terrified of inhaling water, Emma shook her head. **Do it! You have gills now!**

The mermaid touched the skin under Emma's ears, where the blond realized she was right. Slowly, she breathed in. Water flowed into her lungs seamlessly, causing her eyes to widen with surprise. The mermaid, whose red hair fanned out around her head like a lion's mane, smiled. _Why are you doing this? _Emma thought, wondering if her thoughts were also telepathic.

**I like humans. I've always wanted to be human.** These words set off something in Emma's mind, a familiarity... but she couldn't quite place it.

_What's your name?_

**Ariel, what's yours?**

_Emma._

Ariel took her hand, and pulled her in the direction the shadow had disappeared to. **I'm going to take you to Tiger Lily. She'll keep you safe.**

Emma tried to stop her, _No! I was with Killian- uh, he was keeping me safe._ And to be perfectly honest, she sort of trusted him. Especially now that she knew why he was trying to keep her away from Skipper and Peter Pan.

The mermaid frowned, **I'm taking you to Tiger Lily.** She quickly swum around Emma and gripped her with both arms under her armpits, wrapping her arms near Emma's sternum. Without warning she bolted off, with water rushing around her and into her face, her human passenger wondered how a mermaid could adapt to moving in this manner. Despite the speed and seemingly distracting act of moving, Ariel managed to keep the conversation going. **While I think Killian means well, he only has his own interests at heart.**

_What do you mean?_ Emma asked, secretly believing what Ariel said was true. He did have an agenda, but it was largely unclear _what_ that agenda was. Ariel slowed down, and Emma looked down below them at the reef that stretched several feet below them. A shark lazily moved below them, sending a chill down the blond's spine, but clearly that was not what was bothering Ariel as her body seemed to be tilting them upwards as she came to a stop. _Ariel... there's a shark._

**Harmless.** The redhead responded off-handily, and Emma tried not to scoff. A shark harmless? Though, as it moved slowly through the reef below them, Emma's anxiety ebbed. **Something isn't right. Stay here.**

_Stay here- what do you-_ Ariel detached from Emma and quickly swam to the surface, leaving Emma to float uneasily above the reef, staring down at the quickly retreating shark. She felt hopelessly vulnerable, in the middle of the ocean in her underwear. It was a miracle she hadn't lost any of her clothing, given how quickly Ariel swam.

Ariel was returning from the surface, and her delicate features were creased with concern. **There's a storm coming. There are some canoes heading back to the Mohican's home, they seem to have some of Peter's boys with them... but none I recognize as Lost Boys.**

_I helped them escape- Peter had them captive!_ Emma thought her eyes wide, _Who are the Mohicans- will they hurt them?_ Dread spread through her heart, but Ariel shook her head.

**No, that's the name of Tiger Lily's tribe. They've been harboring any of Peter's captives for a long time.**

_How long has this been going on?_

Ariel resumed her traveling position with Emma, and within minutes dark, pod-like shadows appeared on the top of the increasingly grey surface. **Years, maybe. I miss old Peter, he used to be such a happy sea-cucumber.** Emma wanted to ask what happened to him, but the water began to get choppy. They weren't close enough to the surface to really feel it, but as the canoes above them began to struggle, Ariel slowed down to keep pace with them.

_Are they going to be ok?_ Emma asked, pointing to the canoes above them, trying to move through the growing waves.

Ariel didn't answer, but Emma could feel her arms tense. After several minutes, they drifted closer to the surface, and the waves were certainly strong enough where they were. There was some muffled shouting from above, and someone fell into the water. Within moments someone else had jumped in to rescue them and seemed to have succeeded, which is why Emma assumed Ariel hadn't moved.

However, a huge wave crashed down, quickly separating the canoe from the rescuer, who was plunged underwater. Before Emma even knew what was going on, Ariel was at their side, leaving Emma struggling in the growing current. Granted, Emma could breathe underwater, thus she was hardly at any kind of disadvantage. Attempting to go down deeper (where the water was calmer), she moved in the direction the canoes seemed to be going in.

She wished she was a stronger swimmer, then maybe she could be of some help. But she was struggling to move as it was and she knew she would be a hinderance if she were to go up above the surface. Nevertheless, she kept an eye on the surface, incase anyone else fell in.

Suddenly, the ground began to rise towards her, as the water got shallower and shallower. While exciting since that meant land was near, it also meant that she was more at the mercy of the waves. A surge of water, pulling her backwards and up, immediately brought Emma to the surface in one of the largest waves she'd ever seen. The wave crested and slammed her downwards and she rolled in the crashing water, thankful she could breathe underwater.

However, what she hadn't noticed was the disappearance of the canoes and Ariel. Had they landed? If so, where was the mermaid? Panic began to spread in Emma's heart, as she glanced about the dim, churning waters. _Ariel?_ Her telepathic voice seemed faint against the chaos above the surface. _Ariel!_ Moving in the direction of the shallower water, the surge of the waves caused Emma to slam against the ground, scraping up her knees and thighs.

Terrified as thin plumes of blood came off her cuts, Emma swatted at the water, hoping to dissipate the smell. The idea of sharks coming after her was _not_ something she wanted to entertain. The water pushed her further and further away from where she last recalled seeing the canoes (granted, she honestly had no idea where that was), she knew she had to surface soon to see.

But see what? It wasn't like she was an expert on Neverland's geography! This entire time she'd been in Neverland, Emma had _constantly_ been at the mercy of something other than herself. She was always lost and confused, and each time she tried to fix her problem, she ended up in a situation far worse than what she started with.

Fearing she would fall into a pit of despair and sink to the bottom of the sea, her heart leapt when she saw a black shadow on the surface. It was fatter and more round than the canoes, sort of like a rowboat. Taking her chances against the bucking water, Emma kicked and pulled at the water as fast as she could. Her breath came out as a large raspy gasp, and she felt a sharp pain where her gills were... or had been. _Damn._ She thought, knowing going back in the water was no longer an option.

The row boat was several feet away, and Emma tried to get to it as quickly as she could, especially as she was being sucked back into an oncoming wave. As she swam the fastest front crawl of her life, Emma caught a glimpse of the person _attempting_ to row the boat. Dark, shoulder length hair plastered to their neck; strong arms; a distinctively male torso- was that Killian? No, she was seeing things. Approaching the side of the boat just as a wave tried to rip her from it, Emma reached her hand over the edge and gripped onto something in the boat. A (distinctively male) scream of surprise followed, as she pulled herself over the edge and inside.

She honestly didn't care who was piloting it, she needed to get _out_ of the water. "Emma?" Blue eyes stared at her in shock, through stands of wet dark hair. Killian sat there, oars in the boat at his sides, with a bucket on his lap.

"Killian!" Emma could not have been more relieved. If it was one of the Lost Boys she would have started crying, she couldn't fight off a zombie. But as he dropped the bucket he was using (clearly to get rid of the water pooling in the hull) and moved over to give her a bone-crushing hug, she realized she might start crying all the same.

He pulled back slightly and looked her up and down, and raised an eyebrow, "Where are your clothes?"

If a giant wave hadn't nearly capsized the boat at that exact moment, Emma _might_ have blushed. "Is that _important_ right now_?_" She practically screeched over the gale of the wind.

He let go of her and grabbed the bucket as he moved back to his seat. "I'm not complaining, of course but-" He began to say with a shrug, but yet another wave silenced him.

As they tried to stabilize the boat, "How about asking me _normal_ questions?" Emma couldn't believe his line of thought in the _middle of a giant storm_. "Like how did I appear out of the ocean? Where have I been? Or maybe I could ask you-"

"-Emma! Let's just get to shore. You can yell at me... when we are safely on land." He said, rapidly dumping water over the side. "Turn around, go as far forward as possible."

"To the tip of the boat?" Emma asked, turning and moving slowly towards the bucking bow.

"There is... a symbol. On the side, do you see it?" Emma looked around frantically, and stopped once she found a strange eight-pronged rune, with each prong greatly resembling a pitchfork. "Use your magic to make it work!"

Her green eyes widened, "I don't have magic!" She insisted, knowing that was technically false. She couldn't deny what happened in her encounter with Peter Pan.

Killian looked at her with exasperation, "Just _do it!_"

Emma slammed her hand against the rune, but nothing happened. _Please work!_ She thought, as a huge wave began to build behind them. _We need to get out of this storm. We will die!_ Trying to rationalize with an engraved rune was clearly not working, and she looked back at Killian who had gotten out his oars and was desperately trying to get them away form this mammoth wave. Her only thought at that moment was to save him, despite not knowing what he was even doing out here in the first place.

The boat lurched forwards suddenly, well against the current. Emma looked down at her hand, which seemed to be glued to the rune. Glowing in magenta on the back of her hand was the rune itself, and it seemed to be turning in a jerking, circular motion. Too fascinated to even be alarmed, Emma watched as it turned to the left and the boat did as well. "What is this thing?" She called out over the wind.

Killian, who had pulled his oars in, sat on the other end of the boat staring at her hand with a slight frown. "Vigvisir. Some kind of compass."

"Where did you learn about it?"

He hesitated, "It was already on the boat." The boat made another sharp turn, cutting Emma off from examining his expression. Within minutes they cut across the water, almost at the speed of a motorboat, jumping across the waves. It was fun (as evidenced by Killian's exclamations of glee) but mildly terrifying. The boat slammed against the sandy beach, knocking Emma out of the boat and Killian into the hull.

They both quickly recovered, and pulled the boat out as far onto the shore as they could from the raging waters. "Come on." Killian said, pulling off his soaked shirt and pulling it over Emma's head, "You're going to want this." Given its loose nature, the grey shirt came down just above her knees. Trying not to stare at her newly shirtless companion, Emma stifled a gasp as he grabbed her hand and proceeded to pull her into the woods.

The quickly found themselves on an incredibly well-trod path, which didn't even require shoes in the slightest. He then diverged off the path and under a huge tree, as the rain began to increase in ferocity and lightning flashed across the sky. "We shouldn't be outside." Emma said, as a loud clap of thunder echoed through the forest.

"We'll be fine." Killian said, pulling her with him under the low hanging branches. It was surprisingly dry, and for that, Emma couldn't complain. They stopped, the occasional rumble of thunder and roar of rain was nearly overwhelming. He turned to her, and the blond was taken aback by the seriousness of his expression. "What happened to you?" He glanced down at her cut up legs and winced. Pushing her hair back from her face he examined her visage, to the point where Emma felt like she was dealing with a preening monkey.

"Cut it out!" She said, pulling herself away. "I'm _fine_."

"Your legs-"

"Are _fine_." She looked at him, touched by his concern but also distinctly irritated by his decision that _now_ was a good time to discuss. As they stood under a tree in the middle of the biggest storm Emma had ever encountered. "Peter Pan's shadow thing got me. Where were _you?_"

For the first time in their arguably short acquaintance, a slow and steady blush spread across his face and down to his neck. "Something knocked me out." Given his reaction, she was assuming he might have been in a rather compromised... situation. Squinting with mixed repulsion and disbelief, Emma found she really had nothing to respond with. "My turn: what did he do to you?"

Emma sighed, "Nothing. I woke up in a room, there were some fairies that I rescued. Then I met Peter Pan who- can I just say- is _not_ what Peter Pan is _supposed_ to be like!"

Killian scoffed, "Not really sure what you were expecting."

"The boy who never grew up! Playful, happy Peter Pan! Not this creepy, dark version that exists here." He opened his mouth to say something, but Emma cut him off. "_My_ turn: what the _hell_ were you doing out in the sea?"

"Coming to get _you_," He started, but thought better of it. "If I had known you'd rescue yourself I wouldn't have bothered." He paused as Emma made a face at him, "Please explain to me how and _why_ you appeared out of the ocean _alive_ and practically _naked._"

"It's a long story." Emma said, spotting two rocks near the foot of the tree. She motioned for him to sit, and over the thunder and rain, explained to him every single detail of what had happened. "And I'm not naked, stop being so dramatic. It's practically like I'm wearing a bathing suit." She concluded, hoping she'd answered everything he'd asked. However, she'd left out the one detail of Ariel's comment on Killian's motives. She wasn't sure how to approach it.

He didn't react after this, and merely sat there, clearly mulling over what she'd told him. Though, during her story, he did get rather fidgety around the mention of Davy Jones, and she could have _sworn_ she'd heard him mutter 'impatient bastard' under his breath when she described the Jolly Roger's attack. "Who _is_ Davy Jones?" She asked, as a retreating rumble of thunder went off overhead.

Killian bit his lower lip and looked out past Emma, "I'm sure you've noticed we have the same last name."

"Is he your father?" Emma asked slowly, a slight pang in her heart at the mention of having one.

He shook his head, "No, well... sort of, depends on your definition of father." He waved his hands about, "It's complicated. Now isn't the time for it." He looked directly behind Emma, something she noticed he'd been doing a lot these past few minutes. "You can come out now." He muttered, standing up and pushing his wet hair back.

A beautiful young woman stepped out of the branches (Emma wondered how she hadn't noticed her), with the same cheekbones and gorgeous dark eyes as the sketches in Milah's cabin. "Killian." She addressed him with utter disdain.

"Tiger Lily." He said, making a face at her.

She rolled her eyes and turned to Emma, a piercing look that took all of the blond's resolve not to turn away. "The Savior." A small twitch of a smile appeared on Tiger Lily's face, she hooked her arm around Emma's. "Come. Let's get you some food and blankets." Pulling Emma along with her, Tiger Lily looked backwards. "You can stay here." She said to Killian with a smirk, and proceeded to steer Emma out of the tree's low branches and onto the path they'd previously been on.

"_Funny_." Emma heard Killian mutter sarcastically, as he followed them.

* * *

I struggled so hard with this chapter. Ahhhhhh. *cries* But I really wanted Ariel in, and she will be back next chapter.

Also, I am aware that the traditional name of the tribe in the Peter Pan stories is _not _the Mohicans, but I had issues with the original name (a few google searches and you can probably figure out why). The 2003 movie called the tribe Mohicans, and I liked that. But more on that in chapters to come (don't want to bore you with my history major rants).

Killian is back. Ariel was introduced. A long conversation between Emma and Killian. Dramatic storm chapter. I feel like I covered a lot of ground.


	9. Power & Control

**Chapter Nine: Power & Control**

The minute she arrived at the Mohican's compound, Emma was seated on a rock by a roaring fire and an old lady with incredibly smooth skin set to bandaging up Emma's legs. _Honestly, I heal up one wound and get another._ There was a commotion from the edge of the camp, where a few men carried a limp body. Speaking in a language she had no chance of understanding, Emma watched as the old lady who had just finished addressing her wounds, ran over to the unconscious boy and immediately plugged his nose and gave him a few breaths.

It wasn't quite CPR, but Emma was no expert on the subject. Within a minute the boy gasped and immediately spat out a ton of water, and began to cough until he could sit up on his own. It was then that Emma actually recognized him, "Eric!" She ran over and knelt next to him. The Mohicans surrounding him took a few steps back, save for the old lady, who continued monitoring him. "What happened to you?"

Some of the boys (Emma really needed to find out their names, or at least refer to them in a better manner) she'd rescued came over, including a very young one with big eyes and very dark skin, who practically tackled Eric in a hug. "I'm so sorry." He sobbed into the older boy's chest.

Lightly coughing in an attempt to laugh, Eric patted the boy's back. "Max, it's not your fault. You didn't mean to fall out the boat."

"But you nearly drowned rescuing me!" The little boy wailed, "You disappeared and I was so worried!"

Emma pursed her lips in thought, several things suddenly making sense. Before she could voice her thoughts aloud, Eric quickly said: "Someone rescued me. I didn't really see their face or anything, but..." He turned really red and Emma couldn't help but smile.

Once again, she was prevented from saying anything further by Tiger Lily, who quickly shooed everyone one away. "Let the boy breathe!" She exclaimed, and ushering hiccuping Max into the arms of a middle aged woman, who took him to a tent where all of Eric's boys were being taken. Tiger Lily then came by Emma and steered her to a domed house made of assorted plants, reeds and wood. It was very warm and cozy inside, and without warning set about throwing clothes and blankets at Emma. "Go on- change! I'll guard the door, knowing that pig Killian he'll probably..." The rest of her words were a mutter as she went and stood outside the wigwam, closing the entrance.

Emma slipped on what appeared to be leggings and a top made of some kind of weathered but supple animal hide. Actually, she wasn't really sure _what_ it was made of, but it was super comfortable so she couldn't complain. There was intricate beading around the collar and sleeves, all the beads were red, green and blue. It was possibly one of the most beautiful articles of clothing Emma had ever worn.

She picked up Killian's wet shirt, and pushed the door open and walked outside. Tiger Lily beamed at her, "Very pretty. Though, he's got you beat." She nodded her head at Eric, who was standing outside a wigwam a few paces away, looking dashing in an outfit with blue beading. She grinned at Emma and wiggled her eye brows, who laughed.

She was distracted by Killian, sitting by the fire, still shirtless and with no new clothing in sight. Walking over to him, Emma held out his shirt. "It's still wet, but..." He took it and gave her a little smile that hardly seemed genuine and stood up as he pulled it on. "They didn't offer you any clothes?"

He scoffed, "I think they'd sooner shove a knife in my back."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "And _why_ would the Mohicans do that?"

"You should ask Tiger Lily. She _loves_ telling the story." He said scathingly, and causing Emma to flinch in surprise. The tone of his voice was really off-putting and she wasn't sure where it was coming from.

"Maybe I _will_." She stated while giving a disbelieving look. He was fine just an hour ago... Irritated at his sudden mood swing, Emma turned to go back to Tiger Lily who was chatting up a storm with a rather bashful Eric. She felt a pang in her heart as Killian neither moved nor spoke up to stop her. Pushing any thoughts of him out of her head, she joined Tiger Lily and Eric.

"Hello Savior," Tiger Lily said with a grin, "Eric was just telling me all about your heroics. Taking on Skipper? That little boy moves like a shark on a scent."

"I didn't... I didn't take him on. Just, you know, tried to distract him." Emma paused, and frowned as a thought occurred to her. "How do you know Skipper?"

"We've lived here for a long time, Emma. Far before Peter Pan arrived." This news caused both Emma and Eric's eyes to widen in obvious disbelief, Tiger Lily shrugged. "I remember the day he arrived; the fairies simply plucked him from whatever world he came from and raised him as their own for centuries. After a certain point, he learned to fly." She said it like it was well-known information, but Emma was struggling to wrap her head around it. Her thoughts kept going back to Milah, who also lived with the fairies- did she possess magical abilities of some kind? Granted, Emma would probably never know.

Later that afternoon, Tiger Lily led Emma off a path away from the camp. She held various blankets in her hands, and hummed a tune as they walked. Eventually they pushed through some low-hanging willow branches, and Emma felt like she'd walked into a spa. Or at least, what she assumed a spa would feel like. Hot, humid air rolled in steamy tendrils, and Tiger Lily put the blankets down in a pile and motioned at the small hot spring sitting perfectly surrounded by willow branches. "I'm going to be honest with you, Emma." Tiger Lily said, nudging Emma closer to the edge of the water. "You stink of seawater, and your hair is... basically you need a wash. Being female, you get to go first." As opposed to Eric and the boys, who would probably go after her. "You've got blankets, and I brought you these." She held up a pair of roughly sewn underwear, and eyed it distastefully. "I tried to copy one I stole from Milah." She also pulled out a long strip of bandage from the blankets, and set it on top. "If you can't wrap yourself, I'll help you when you get back."

Tiger Lily turned to leave and hovered around the willow branches briefly. "You should be alone. No one will come here until you're back." And with that she left.

Apprehensive but in great need of a wash, Emma quickly unclothed and slowly slipped into the water. It was incredibly hot, and it took her several tries before she could finally get herself in the water. However, the minute she sat down, on some rock at the bottom, she left out a huge breath.

Her shoulders relaxed and her posture slouched as she, for the first time since she arrived, was able to finally catch her breath. She was exhausted. Nearly every single day entailed some kind of dramatic escape or near death experience, and she... just wanted to go home.

Though, really what _was_ home for her? Sure she liked the Barber's house well enough, but it wasn't home. It never would be. Emma stopped believing in finding a home through the foster system a long time ago. Probably when she was twelve, and _convinced_ a family would warm up to her, but she was gone within a year. The emotional wound still stung, and Emma shifted on the rock so as to not think about it.

No, for now, home was her world. Earth. She wasn't even sure if Neverland was some kind of parallel universe, but she wanted to go back to her non-magical world. Where things made sense. _Where I'm still in foster care_.

The one positive thing she'd noticed so far about Neverland, however, was something she'd really not been trying to think about. The Lost Boys, Milah the Lost Girl, Killian, Peter Pan... they all found homes here. Emma assumed Peter Pan was once jovial and delightful, and took good care of his boys. Milah managed to find a home with the fairies. Could Emma possibly make a home here? At the rate things were going, she was probably never leaving Neverland.

Though, to be fair on the subject of homes, Killian alone in his cabin seemed rather lonely. They never really had the chance to discuss his living arrangements... or really anything about him, now that Emma thought about it. What did she really know about Killian? Within half a day she already knew more about Tiger Lily and Peter Pan than she did after three or so days with Killian.

What did she know? He had a very strong attachment to Milah, possibly even love, the idea of which made Emma uneasy and she didn't want to think about why. He had some kind of relationship with Davy Jones, possibly familial. Peter Pan knew of him, even of his living situation enough to make fun of it. Ariel also seemed to know of Killian and possibly could have known him quite well. Tiger Lily clearly hated Killian, though Emma hadn't quite figured out why.

As she tried to sort through her thoughts, pausing to pull herself half-way out the water to cool off a little, Emma found more questions raised than answered. Granted, she had questions about everything, but for some reason her mind kept circling back to Killian. Well, she knew the reason why.

She liked him. Simple as that. She wasn't sure to what extent she liked him, but she was already very fond of him despite his moodiness and occasionally obnoxious behavior. Almost each time she'd been in trouble, he'd _somehow_ managed to be there to help, even at his own expense. Though, despite the fact she trusted _him_, Emma could not bring herself to trust his _motives_; mostly because she had no idea what they were.

What was he getting out of helping her? Angering Peter Pan? Something told her he didn't need her help for that. Her magic? No, he hadn't initially known about it. After mulling over it for several minutes, Emma decided to just ask. Though, she didn't know how exactly to phrase it. 'Killian, I am questioning your motives, so please tell me what they are' did not seem a good approach.

Her head was beginning to hurt, so Emma dunked herself under and swished her hair around, and then slowly climbed out. The temperature change was not too drastic, but it still made her a little dizzy. She'd probably stayed in for too long. Grabbing one of the blankets and wrapping herself in it, Emma sat on a mossy rock as she waited for her head to clear. Her hands lay on her lap, after tucking the blanket in under her armpit so it wouldn't fall down. Not that it mattered, no one would come in anyway.

However at that moment, the willow branches parted and Killian peeked his head inside. His eyes met Emma's, and she was pleased he at least had the thought to _look_ embarrassed. Meeting his gaze with a dead-pan, she crossed her arms over her chest (thankfully the blanket was huge and she tied it like a dress). "Oh." He said simply, not exactly moving.

"Get out!" Emma exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief. He did so, but she heard him pace outside the branches. There was no visible opening, but Emma wasn't taking chances. "Close your eyes!"

"Emma, I can't see through the leaves-"

"-Do it!"

She heard a huff and the pacing stopped. Despite this, Emma pulled the blanket up on her shoulders and changed with it hanging over her back (an awkward process). Though, the whole wrapping thing was really difficult. Doing a shoddy job, Emma wrapped her old clothes in the blankets, and slowly walked through the branches.

Standing with his arms crossed and facing the opposite direction of the tree, Killian remained still with his eyes closed and a frown on his face. Despite his foul attitude prior, Emma couldn't resist the urge to lean in by his ear, "Open your eyes!" He flinched so visibly, Emma thought he was going to fall over. She burst into laughter and despite his initially angry reaction, he couldn't hide a smirk.

"You're a mean lass." He said as she wiped tears from her eyes with her free hand, and he grabbed the blankets as she nearly dropped them.

"Thanks," She said still slightly chuckling, as he caught them.

He nodded for her to follow him as they walked up the path back to the camp. "You were gone for so long, and Tiger Lily wouldn't tell me where you were so... I didn't realize." He was blushing again, that deep flush that spread down his neck and even to his chest.

"Relax. It's fine." Granted, if he had been a minute earlier it would have been a very different situation. Probably a more violent one. "We're in the barrier here, it's safe. You didn't have to worry."

He shrugged, "The barrier doesn't keep out _all_ evils."

"What do you mean?"

"You're about to find out." He said as they stepped out of the forest and into the camp. Tiger Lily, glaring at Killian, ran up and plucked the blankets out of his grasp.

"What part of _don't_ go find her did you _not_ understand?" She hissed at him, and she turned to Emma. Her expression was clearly troubled. "You have a visitor." She said, leading Emma over to a large tent. Smoke poured out from a hole in the ceiling, and Tiger Lily stopped outside. "You can't go in with her.

"Wait- _I_ have a visitor?" Emma gasped, her eyebrows furrowing.

Killian didn't respond, much to Emma's surprise. She felt him lean down next to her ear and his breath tickled her neck, "Whatever you do, no matter what happens, do _not_ make a deal with her." _Her? Who is Her?_ Her thoughts grew more panicked and scrambled, but no one was giving her any answers.

Tiger Lily looked over at Killian and also whispered: "This is the _only_ time I will agree with him."

Emma felt like she was going to vomit, as Tiger Lily gently nudged her into the smoky, empty tent. All that could be seen was a huge fire roaring in a pit at the center, and a huge bucket to its right side. It was one of the largest buckets Emma had ever seen. She felt something radiating from it, she couldn't figure out what the feeling was, but it felt... ominous.

Huge black tentacles slowly rolled out of the bucket, seemingly increasing in size until a voluptuous woman slowly raised herself out of the water in it.

Though, Emma wasn't sure if the term 'woman' was correct. She had the upper torso of a human, but from her breast downwards was that of a black octopus. Her skin had a purple sheen to it and she had near claw-like red nails. Her eyes were wide and deep-set, and it was impossible to tell when her pupils met her black irises. The feeling in Emma's gut intensified, and she found herself makings fists with her hands as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

The octopus-woman stayed half submerged in the bucket, but her huge tentacles moved languidly over the edges.

"Hello darling." Her voice was robust, deep and raspy. She chuckled to herself, as she stared Emma down. "Come closer dear, I don't bite." That was one of the last things Emma wanted to do, but she found her body moving forwards against her will. Emma ended up a mere foot from the bucket, staring right into the woman's eyes. A slow smile spread on the woman's face. "I felt a surge of magic this morning. _Very_ early, very... unexpected." The fire's flames had now turned a deep indigo, plumes of smoke drifted off this cold fire and began to swirl above it.

Her black eyes met Emma's green ones, an a deep, nasal laugh erupted from the woman. "Now I know why Killian was hiding you." One of her black tentacles reached out and touched Emma's cheek, its cool sliminess gave her the chills. "Though, I think his emotions have clouded his judgement."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Emma stammered, wishing she didn't sound so frightened. But the tentacle was creepy as all hell, and she was scared the woman would wrap all her tentacles around her...

The tentacle drew back, and the woman ran her hand through her magically gravity-defying white hair. "Oh sweet child, you know so _little_." Emma frowned at that accusation, and opened her mouth to retort but she was cut off. "Ah, ah, ah! Quiet, little bird. I have a deal to propose to you."

"No."

"But you haven't even heard what it was." The woman's voice was smooth as honey, though there was an undercurrent of calculation. "I can help you go home."

The gasp escaped the blond's throat before she could catch herself, "How?"

The woman smirked, "_That's_ part of the deal."

Pausing, Emma contemplated her options. This was obviously some kind of trick, especially since she'd been warned about it prior. All her instincts told her this was foolish, but... what if she really could get Emma home? "How do I know I can trust you? I don't even know your name."

"Neither I yours." The woman paused with pursed lips, but seeing Emma's resolve thought better of whatever she'd been planning. "Ursula the Sea-witch. I created the barrier protected the Mohican camp, along with that protecting your loverboy's cabin."

"He's not-"

"Ah, ah, ah! Irrelevant, dear." Ursula silenced Emma with a tentacle to her mouth, which caused Emma to jerk away violently. "I make a contract with my associates. I keep my end of the bargain, if you keep yours." She snapped her fingers and a golden parchment appeared out of thin air, hovering in front of Emma. A giant quill appeared beside it. The words were far too small and numerous for Emma to even attempt reading, and she knew this was a terrible idea.

Mustering all her resolve she asked: "How will you get me home, and what do I have to do?"

Ursula laughed, "Oh it'll be hardly an issue at all. One week from now, Killian will be boarding the _Jolly Roger_ to take care of some business with Davy Jones for me. While he is doing that, I need you to acquire a very special box for me. It's always with the first mate, Mr. Smee, he'll be easy to overpower. Very distinctive, you'll know it when you see it."

So a stealing job. Emma had stolen before, she was good with her hands and all... though, the idea of stealing something from a ship filled with pirates was quite daunting. "You still didn't tell me how you'll get me back. I thought you can only go by magic beans, and Peter Pan has all of them."

"Get me the box and I can get Peter Pan to do _whatever_ I want."

An hour later, Emma sat in Killian's little boat as he sailed them back to his cabin. Neither of them really spoke, more so since Emma kept her eyes glued on the water, and Killian kept giving her worried glances. They landed quickly, and once Emma felt Killian was ready to leave, did she turn to walk to the cabin. He followed her silently, but she could feel his eyes on her the entire walk through the forest.

Once inside the little hut, Killian locked the door firmly, while Emma was attempting to take her boots off. "She said she could get me home." She finally said, looking up at him as he paused at the door with his back turned to her.

"You didn't..." He said slowly, rounding on her with so much rage in his expression, Emma jumped backwards.

It was a struggle for her to mask the hurt that crept into her expression, though she felt it keenly in her heart. "No- I didn't."

He took a step closer, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth stern. "Don't lie to me, Swan."

Tears brimmed her eyes and she blinked furiously. She wished she was lying. She wished she had taken the stupid deal. Instead of being stuck here forever... "I'm _not_ lying! I wish I was..." Her breath hitched, and she knew it was all over, her will to keep her from crying was gone.

Before a single sob could escape her throat, she felt something warm and very firm encircle her. Her face was smushed up against Killian's collarbone, and her body pressed against his, as he held her in a fiercely strong hug. His chin rested on her head for a moment, and she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him just as vigorously. "You're far braver than you know." He murmured, and Emma suddenly became very aware of his heartbeat. "Why'd you say no?"

She put her forehead against his chest and sighed, "I didn't trust her." She then paused, and a slow frown developed on her lips. Pulling back from Killian with her arms pushing against his chest lightly, she stared into his eyes. "But you did." His eyes widened slightly, "_You_ have a deal with Ursula. What is it?" He looked away and let go of her. This stung Emma deeply, and she tried to ignore the feeling of a knife twisting into her heart. "_What did you promise her_?" She demanded, holding his wrist, searching his face with her eyes.

After a long moment that felt like eternity, he looked at her and said: "I have to kill Davy Jones."

* * *

This chapter was really hard for me to write. I dunno. But anyway, despite how much Emma does want to go home, there's no way she'd ever take a deal from someone like Ursula unless backed into a corner (like on the show with Rumple). Urgh. I just really had a rough time writing this. I have an internship and was taking a lifeguarding class last week, so I wasn't able to write as much as I wanted.

Also, Ursula has leverage over the Mohicans and Killian, so that's why they didn't even try to come in the tent with Emma. Aaaand Ursula is one of my fave villains of all time, and I couldn't keep her from the spotlight. So coming in the upcoming chapters: a major betrayal. Romantic fluff. Dark!Pan's origin. Davy Jones. More Ariel and Tiger Lily. (Get ready!)

EDIT: I also changed the initial plot of this chapter. Hee hee. Emma _will_ learn to use a weapon next chapter for _sure_.


	10. Shake It Out

**Chapter Ten: Shake It Out**

Emma awoke to an empty bed. She'd expected as much. The pillow barrier remained perfectly intact, and she wondered if Killian had gotten any sleep at all. After their row the night before, it was through sheer exhaustion that Emma angrily climbed onto the bed and passed out. She closed her eyes, attempting to sort through the fight in her mind.

_"He's your _father!_" She practically screamed, unable to stand still. How could he even think of such a thing?_

_Killian's lips pressed together before he spoke, "He _isn't_." He turned away as if to go to the door to leave, but Emma ran in front of him._

_"Look, buddy-"_

_"-Buddy?" His dark eyebrows shot up, but Emma ignored him._

_"You have the _nerve_ to get all huffy with me when I don't know what going on, but you fail to ever explain anything!" Her words came out in a rush and she took a breath to steady herself, "I'm not a mindreader, Killian."_

_He crossed his arms, his blue eyes narrowed. "It doesn't concern you."_

_With those words, Emma's expression took on a very drastic change. Her anger had completely overwhelmed her and there was no holding back. "Doesn't concern me?"_ _She seethed, "Freaking _Ursula_ the Seawitch just tried to make a deal with me regarding Davy Jones, that apparently would have cost me my existence if I failed. But lo and behold! _You_ have a bargain with her to kill the man you led me to believe was your father, but now you say he isn't! Tell me the truth!"_

_He didn't say anything for a long time, "I should have left you with the Mohicans."_

_His words hurt like she'd been physically hit by them. "Then why didn't you?" She clearly had no other value to him, given his reluctance to tell her _anything_ about himself._

Or his motives. Emma's eyes widened, and she sat up with so much speed, she felt dizzy. Putting her hand on her forehead until she felt normal, Emma slowly slid off the bed.

Why hadn't she realized? He _did_ need her for something. But what? Frowning as she changed into a fresh pair of Milah's old clothes, she tried not to let her thoughts get to her. She trusted him up until this point, but now she wasn't quite sure. And what was worse, she felt so emotionally bruised since she'd actually considered Killian as a friend... at least, anyway.

Pushing open the cabin door, she saw Killian sitting by the fire. He threw a strange blue fruit at her, which she barely caught. "Breakfast." He said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Thanks." She said, straining to make her voice the same. Standing where she was, she bit into the fruit and it had a surprising honey-like flavor to it, with a bright yellow inside to match. "So when are we leaving?" She said, walking over and sitting on the opposing log from Killian's, staring at him from across the fire as she ate.

He frowned, "I don't understand what you mean."

She rolled her eyes, "The Mohicans. When are you taking me back?"

Killian's blue eyes narrowed, more out of irritation than confusion. "I never said-"

Emma shrugged, "-It was _strongly_ implied."

"You're still angry with me."

"Yes."

He stood up, and pulled at two rapiers plunged in the ground at his side. Emma couldn't believe she hadn't seen them. He threw one across the fire, so the handle pointed at her. Despite this, Emma jumped out of the way, completely taken by surprise. "What the _hell_?"

Clearly impatient, Killian absentmindedly swung his rapier about, "Pick it up, let's go."

Emma's eyes widened and she gave him a look, "What do you mean 'let's go'?" She left the rapier where it lay on the ground, by the log.

He pointed at her rapier, "You beat me, I'll tell you my relationship with Davy Jones."

"I don't know how to sword-fight!" She exclaimed, "It's not exactly a common skill where I'm from."

He shrugged, "I'll teach you."

She gently picked up the thin sword, "That defeats the point. You'll still be better than me."

"It's enchanted, I'd bet that after three days- maybe four- you'll be just as good as me." Emma looked down at the thin sword, with its intricate handle, like looked like swirling vines, she assumed it was meant to protect her hand.

She slowly rotated it to get a full view of the handle. "Where'd you get these?"

He quickly moved around the fire, and practically flicked the rapier out of her hand. It flew several feet and lightly thudded on the grass. "I stole them." His smirk was arrogant and slightly cold, it was almost like he was someone she didn't know.

"From Davy Jones." His eyes widened a fraction, and Emma knew she'd guessed correctly. She huffed, "I don't understand why you can't just _tell_ me everything, instead of making it some game."

He smiled, the coldness fading from his eyes. "It'd be less fun that way. And, to be perfectly honest, you get into trouble on a daily basis so you ought to learn to fight."

Emma went to pick up the rapier, turning once she'd picked it up. Determined not to let him swat it out her hand again, she gripped it firmly, getting into a sort of fighter position.

Killian looked her up and down with a raised eyebrow before he burst into laughter. "Swan, you're a mess." He went about her, correcting her posture with the flat edge of his sword, which was slightly unnerving.

The remainder of the day went by slowly. Emma felt that she was completely out of her element, and she wondered how Killian had the patience for her. She messed up nearly every form he attempted to teach her, but despite the tension between them, it got to the point where Killian physically had to move Emma into the right poses. She resented how his touch (no matter how impartial) made her feel.

By the early evening, Emma was sweating profusely, whereas Killian's cheeks were hardly even red. "We're done for the day." He said after staring at her for a few moments.

"I can keep going." Emma insisted, feeling completely useless. He plucked the sword from her despite her protests, and stuck them in the ground by the fire.

"You _look_ like you're about to keel over." He said with a small smile, if Emma didn't know any better, she'd think he looked impressed. She didn't know why though, she was a hot mess. "You need to rest."

She awkwardly walked over to sit by the unlit fire, her legs shaking slightly as she plopped down on one of the logs. "There's no way I'll learn in three days." She mumbled, as Killian began to assemble some logs to start the fire with.

"I'm thinking it might take four." He said with a laugh, catching her eye and winked, as he position the pieces of wood over a pile of twigs and dried leaves. He'd been so patient, Emma could hardly even believe they'd fought the night before. Killian had more moods than Emma could ever hope to know. It was exhausting simply trying to figure out the primary emotions, let alone his complex ones. "Ivory- that's your sword's name- belonged to a princess. Davy Jones said he kidnapped her, and she nearly killed him in his attempt." Emma was taken aback by the sudden reveal, and tried not to move, lest Killian stop talking. "He fell in love with her, but she fell in love with the cook- who would make her delightful cakes every day." He chuckled as he lit the fire, it slowly grew as he paused in the story to blow on the embers. "Eventually, Davy found out. He killed the cook, and the princess jumped overboard and drowned herself."

"Oh." Emma's eyebrows furrowed as she pouted, "I thought this would be a happy story."

Killian looked at her with his mouth slightly open as if in thought, "There are no happy stories involving Davy Jones."

He hadn't actually said anything explicit, but that simple statement set of alarm bells in Emma's mind. This explained Killian's reluctance to talk about Davy Jones and Eric's boy's fear of him. He sounded terrifying.

"So what about you, Swan?" He said as he set up the cooking pot over the fire. Water already sloshed around in it, and he sat down on the ground next to Emma's legs, with a small knife and began to peel the skin off of some very green looking vegetables that he pulled out of a bucket that had been sitting by the fire. She assumed he'd found all of these earlier, since there had been no time during the day to do so.

She frowned, "What _about_ me?"

He shrugged, his shoulders brushing against her calf. "What's your story?"

"Until you tell me yours, you won't hear mine." Killian leaned his head back and looked up at her, with his eyebrow raised. This seemed to be a signature look.

He nodded in the direction of where they'd been practicing all afternoon, "You're so obsessed with anticipating an attack and staying on the defensive that you can't focus on anything else." Emma's breath caught in her throat, how did he know all this? He smiled as he resumed peeling the skin off the green vegetables and throwing them in the pot. "They say you can find out a lot about a person by the way they fight. You're a particularly obvious example of this."

She bit her lips together, to the point where she almost drew blood. She didn't owe him any answers. He never gave her any. "Whereas you let emotions cloud your vision. You're contained when your emotions are in check. Once angry, you become aggressive and over confident."

He paused mid-peel, clearly taken off guard. He looked up at her slowly, his sapphire blue eyes slightly narrowed. "Perceptive, but harsh. You haven't even _seen_ me fight yet."

"Next time have more tact when you point out my flaws, and I'll do the same with yours."

He opened his mouth slightly in mild surprise, but it quickly became a grin. "_Feisty_, Miss Swan."

The way he said that elicited a strange reaction in Emma's stomach, which suddenly felt like a horde of butterflies had been released within it. She looked away and began to play with her hair. He turned back to the vegetables, and they remained quiet for awhile. Or at least, until the blush on Emma's face had gone down. She hated when he looked at her like that, said things in that voice...

Emma shook her head, trying to physically clear her head. Killian finished with the vegetables and assorted herbs from his bucket (when did he collect all that?), and after some time a delicious aroma began to come from the pot. "Where'd you learn to cook?" She asked, hoping it was neutral enough territory.

"_Someone_ had to cook for Peter and the Lost Boys. Peter can't cook to save his life." Killian muttered, leaning his head back on the log, his face parallel with Emma's thigh. "I think I was the first one to ever go rogue."

Emma didn't say anything at first, she hoped he might go on. But Killian closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, his long black lashes in sharp contrast with his skin. Forcing herself to look into the fire instead, Emma took a deep breath. "You were a Lost Boy?" She finally ventured tentatively, daring to look down at his face.

He didn't open his eyes, merely lay there. "Yes. Peter's right hand man... well, boy." His lashes fluttered open, making Emma realize she'd been holding her breath. He looked up at her, his eyebrows slightly upturned and his mouth in a small frown. She knew she'd never be able to fully read his expressions, despite the growing amount of exposure she was getting to them.

He was visibly troubled, so Emma hastened to change the subject. For once, she didn't want to pry.

* * *

The following day, Emma awoke feeling like she'd been hit by a train. Her muscles ached, and no matter how she moved her body screamed in protest. Gritting her teeth, Emma rolled out of the bed, noting Killian was awake before her once more.

He was a lot less patient with her now, expecting her to perfectly retain everything from the day before. She struggled the first few hours, but eventually managed to push her way through the pain. It was certainly not easy, but determination was one of Emma's virtues. Killian had outfitted her with strips of leather over her arms and stomach, and once they started sparring she realized why.

He wasn't exactly holding back, and Emma was lucky if she could block him efficiently, giving her no room to even try to attack. Countless times the sword was knocked from her hand, but despite this, Emma noticed as the day wore on, his blows were becoming less frequent.

Or at least she wanted to believe that, since her patience for his constant disarmament of her was wearing thin. It was nearly dusk, and she noticed him go in for her sword. "No!" She shouted, slamming her blade against his and shoving it aside. This left his middle completely exposed and she pointed her sword at it. "Give!" She hissed through labored breathing, staring him down. She couldn't hit him, given his lack of leather padding, but he raised his arms slowly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, "Give." Emma sighed and lowered her sword. Killian rolled his eyes and quickly disarmed her. "Unless they are disarmed, do not trust your opponent. Even when they _are_ disarmed, still do not trust them."

"I hate you." Emma grumbled, going to pick up her sword.

He put his hand on his heart, clearly mocking her. "Oh, I think I might cry."

* * *

By the time Emma awoke on the third day, the gray sky hung overhead and she hoped it wouldn't rain, not that this phased Killian in the slightest. He took away the leather pieces today, and did not hesitate to slap Emma with the flat edge of his sword if she got careless. It stung painfully, and only fueled her anger and drive. As the day continued, Killian became openly rude and almost hostile, which was when Emma began to become irritated. She hoped he was doing this to rile her up, because otherwise...

Around midday, Killian refused to stop for lunch until Emma had managed to disarm him. Given that she had only just mastered blocks, it was obvious they weren't eating anytime soon. Her stomach growled, and she knew this did not bode well for her mood. It did not help that he was taunting her. "You're awfully sluggish today, how _did_ you manage to outrun Skipper?"

They circled each other, he was clearly ready to pounce. Emma just had to wait for him to do it, she was anticipating it. However, it suddenly occurred to her that he would be anticipating a block from her. It was her 'style'. Slightly distracted by this knowledge, she barely managed to stop him when their blades clashed loudly. Emma put all her strength into pushing the blade away from her body, while Killian was clearly doing the same. His mouth began to form a thin line and she knew he was beginning to concentrate, which was bad. "You'll never win, Emma." He murmured, and she stifled a scream of frustration.

The tension between their blades was released as they quickly parted, but Killian instantly began an offensive, with Emma deflecting the blows at each turn. They were increasingly quicker and more powerful, which kickstarted Emma's adrenaline. She _had_ to defeat him. He was insufferable so far, and she was _hungry_. Taking advantage of a split second hesitation on his part, Emma jumped forwards in an offensive thrust as several drops of rain began to fall.

She had no idea what she was really doing, it was pure instinct at this point, though Killian seemed so temporarily surprised by her sudden onslaught of attacks that he almost struggled to keep deflecting them. "_Screw you!_" She gasped, quickly maneuvering her blade in the manner she'd seen him do countless times, jerking his blade out of his grip and throwing it as far away as she could. The rain was falling more consistently at this point, causing the grass to become slick. He froze for a moment, staring at her, before turning to run after his blade, but half fell over in the grass. "Oh _hell_ no!" Emma hissed, dropping her sword and lunging after him, tackling him from behind and pinning him to the ground, eliciting a loud 'oof' from Killian.

She grabbed his arms and attempted to pin them to his back, as he wriggled and quickly knocked her to her side. Within moments he had her pinned on her back with her arms against the grass. Not taking a moment to think once she realized her legs were free, Emma rammed them upwards into his stomach, causing Killian to curse in agony as he fell to the side. She pushed him over and pinned him down on his back, "Give?" Her voice was sharp between her tired gasps for air.

Killian's chest heaved with equally labored breaths, "Give." She did not release her grip, her anger still coursing through her. He winced, looking up at her. "I'm not the only one who becomes aggressive when angered."

Emma instantly slackened her grip and got off him. "Oh my god, were you just trying to rile me up?"

He squinted at her in disbelief, holding his stomach. "Of course, you ninny." His face was streaked with grass, mud and rainwater as the sky slowly started to open up.

"Is there anything I can do?" Emma said, guilt completely overwhelming her. She'd just been so angry and he'd been so ferocious... rainwater fell from her hair down onto Killian as she hovered over him.

A grin spread across his face, "A kiss would certainly make me feel better."

Her green eyes widened, and Emma nearly jumped up as if zapped by electricity. "You're fine." She declared, going to pick up her sword.

"Swan, Swan- Emma- come back! I was joking!" He winced as he sat up, but she ignored him. _Stupid boy._ Emma thought, jogging over to but the sword in the cabin, before going to get the pot off the quickly dying fire. She heard him groan as he stood up and went to retrieve his sword, and she struggled to move the pot into the cabin for lunch.

Before he had the chance to get in the cabin, Emma slipped out of her shirt into a dry one, and tying one of the spare blankets around her waist as a makeshift skirt while her trousers dried. The blanket dragged slightly on the ground, so she pulled it up as she walked over the table, grabbing two bowls and spoons on her way. She set them down on the table, as Killian walked in, soaking wet. He pulled off his boots by the doorway, closing the door as soon as he'd finished. Emma walked over to grab another blanket and held it out to him, trying not to look at the way his wet clothes practically clung to him.

"Thanks lass." He said, grabbing it and roughly drying off his mess of dark hair. Emma sat at the table, facing away from him as he went over by the bed to quickly change. She stared down her empty bowl in the meantime, until he sauntered over and sat down across from her.

"I beat you." Emma said as she served them soup from the pot. "You have to tell me everything."

"You didn't defeat me with your sword. Emma, if wrestling was your fighting style, you should have told me earlier. It would have been far more enjoyable." He said with a cheeky wink.

"Shut up, I defeated you, you didn't specifically say how I had to do it." She frowned, "And don't change the subject. What is your history with Davy Jones?"

He groaned, "Can't a lad eat in peace?" When Emma simply glared at him, Killian took a sip of his stew and sighed. "You did best me, not many have." Leaning back in his chair, the dark haired boy stirred his stew slowly, clearly thinking of where to begin. "When I was a child, my father had no money. He took us to sea, where we both worked on a ship." Emma half forgot how hungry she'd been, given that all the answers she sought were currently coming to light. She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

He sighed again, "One day I..." His voice cracked slightly and he loudly cleared his throat, Emma looked at her stew, pretending not to notice. "Woke up, he wasn't there. He abandoned me on that ship." He let go of his spoon as he waved his hand, "Turns out he was a fugitive. Felt I wasn't worth taking along." His voice petered off, and Emma thought her stomach was going to revolt against her. She shouldn't have pushed the subject. She of _all_ people should have known better. She opened her mouth to offer empathy, but Killian plowed on after another spoonful of his stew. "I eventually made my way onto the Jolly Roger, I was twelve... I think. Mostly powder-monkey work, a very high risk position." He was trying to mask any emotion in his voice, but he wasn't succeeding. The slight pauses and abnormally loud to soft inflections on certain words were very telling.

"However," Killian had avoided her eyes this entire time, and continued to stare at his food, "Davy Jones took a shine to me. He taught me to fight, sail, navigation... everything." Emma frowned, Davy Jones sounded more like an adoptive father than anything. How could that justify killing him? "He was vicious. You heard the story about the cook and the princess." Killian murmured, as if answering Emma's thoughts.

"Did he hurt you?" Emma's mouth opened slightly, holding her breath after she asked the question. She'd heard horror stories in the foster care system, but had never witnessed such a thing...

He shook his head, "No, not me. I was _special_." Killian outlined the rim of his bowl with his pointer finger, "But my friends on the ship weren't. You've met some of them."

She frowned in confusion, "Lost Boys?"

Killian nodded with a shrug, "Felix, Nasher... Kip, I believe are still alive." Emma opened her mouth to ask how zombie boys could _die_, but felt that was a different story for a different day. She closed it, and let him continue. "Anyway, we came to Neverland. Met Peter, who asked us to leave Davy and come live with him. Davy never forgave, and he never forgot. He's tried to kill us all dozens of times since."

"How long ago was this?"

Killian finally looked at her, his blue eyes unreadable. "Possibly three... four hundred years? I think four." His words made it seem like this was perfectly normal, causing Emma's eyes to widen.

"_Four hundred years?_" She gasped, and Killian laughed.

"You should see your face." He chuckled, making Emma secretly pleased she'd made him smile. However his following question squashed that feeling, "So, you've heard mine. What's _your_ story?"

"I was abandoned in the woods and found by another orphan boy. I wasn't even a day old." The words tumbled out of her mouth quickly. She'd told the story so many times, she didn't typically attach emotion to it. But this time felt different. There was something she'd never contemplated before. What the _hell_ was another John Doe orphan like herself doing in the woods? Where did _he_ come from?

Coming back from her troubling train of thought (to which she could not obtain answers), Emma realized her soup had gone cold. She realized she wasn't even hungry anymore. "I grew up in the foster system." Killian raised an eyebrow, and she hastily amended, "You live with families temporarily until someone... adopts you."

He didn't ask if anyone did, it was plainly obvious no one had. "Look at us, two Lost Children." He stood up and began to clear the table (it was obvious neither of them were going to keep eating).

Emma sat at the table, deep in thought. "Killian?"

"Yes?" He asked, not looking up from the wash-bucket.

"I want to come with you." He visibly paused and she added firmly, "To the Jolly Roger."

He turned his head to peer at her, "Why would you want to do that?"

She returned his gaze as strongly as she could, "One boy against a crew? Hardly seems fair, doesn't it?"

He didn't say anything for a long time, merely turned back to washing the bowls, and setting them to dry on a shelf. She needed him to say yes. She had to be there, to stop him from killing Davy. It just wasn't right, no matter the reasons. Emma could steal the box, and make a reverse deal with Ursula to keep Killian from being killed or whatever Ursula did.

There was that, and also the idea of Killian going alone, which chilled Emma to her core. No matter his tendencies to be obnoxious and moody, she cared. She cared _a lot_. Killian was probably the closest person she'd ever considered to be a friend.

"We'll keep training then." He finally said, opening the front door and picking up their swords.

She ran over to her boots and slid them on. The rain had stopped but the grass was still slick and muddy. "Is that a yes?" She asked hopefully.

"Only if you can completely defeat me _without_ wrestling." He said with a smirk, "As enjoyable as it was."

"You looked like you were in a lot of pain, to be honest." She retorted, taking her sword from him.

He shrugged and they walked outside, and the sound of metal against metal could be heard deep into the evening and for the next few days following.

* * *

**Longest chapter to date! Sword fighting scenes are the best kinds of scenes. However, I always felt Emma's fighting skills lay in tackling people. I couldn't pass it up. xD Also I think it's a Charming family trait to hit first, think later. Else she would have totally realized he was just trying to get her to fight less protectively. This chapter wrote itself, mostly because it was super dialogue-heavy. So that's maybe a piece of Killian's story revealed. For those of you rooting for Dark!Pan to come back... he'll come eventually. I have a few things that need to happen first: the betrayal, the first appearance of the crocodile (not Rumple, sorry!), Ariel gets laryngitis, and a return trip to the fairy home.**


	11. Skyfall

Author's Note: I feel like I need to write a few things _before_ this chapter starts. Davy Jones is heavily based off of Benedict Cumberbatch, after seeing Star Trek his voice is exactly what I wanted/needed for Davy, so you know, this is probably better if you read his parts with Khan's voice. Second, this is a monster chapter, in more ways than one. Finally, this chapter is best enjoyed while listening to Skyfall (just do it). Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Skyfall**

Emma pointed her sword at Killian's throat, his own lay upon the grass two yards away. "Two out of four now, I'd say we're about even." She said with a grin, trying to stifle her desire to gasp for breath. This sparring match had gone on for over fifteen minutes, with neither of them relenting.

He smiled back at her, eliciting a burst of butterflies in her stomach. "I threw that match." He claimed, as she lowered her sword.

"Liar!" She exclaimed with a laugh.

Dusk was approaching, and it had now been a week since Emma had met with Ursula. This was the night they would infiltrate the Jolly Roger and Killian would attempt to kill Davy Jones. Attempt being the key word, since Emma would _not_ let it happen. Killian didn't know about the box, she just had to get her hands on it and then they could escape and buy off Ursula. It was obviously a risky plan, but the stakes were far less dire.

Dinner was brief, Emma felt too nervous to eat much of anything. They then changed into outfits of all black, while waiting for the sky to darken. There was a half-full moon, which would provide them with enough light to get their boat to the Jolly Roger without a light.

The waves were light and the sea quiet as they sailed towards the giant ship. "Every seventh day, the crew goes to bed while only Davy Jones and Mr. Smee remain on watch." Killian informed her as he began to take down the sails, though he failed to explain why this occured. Emma helped him stow them, and they slowly and quietly began to row the boat up alongside the Jolly Roger. Hiding in the shadow of the ship, Emma couldn't believe they hadn't been spotted against the moon-lit waters.

They tied their boat up to the side, and Killian grabbed Emma's arm. "You need to be careful." He whispered.

"I know." She responded, despite how much she just wanted to go back to the cabin.

He bit his lower lip and then opened his mouth, "Do you trust me?"

She narrowed her eyes, unsure where this question was coming from. Normally she'd say no. Emma never trusted anybody. But she knew she'd be lying in this case. She trusted him more than she wanted to (and that was not at all). He was this strange, mysterious and complicated boy she'd grown immeasurably fond of. "Yes." Her words were more unsure than they felt, and she cleared her throat to emphasize this. "_Yes._" She repeated.

He took a deep breath, a look flickered in his eyes for a moment but it left. "I'm going to hoist you up. You're going to scan the deck."

Killian then slowly helped Emma climb up into one of the cannon holes. The cannon itself was pushed back enough to allow entry and provide a slight cover as she scanned the deck. Two figures, one short and heavy, the other tall and muscular, lurked about the forecastle deck, on the other side of the ship. She honestly had no idea how they intended to get over to Davy Jones without him seeing or alerting the crew. She turned backwards and whispered down to Killian, "They're at the back of the boat." She looked back to double check, but now neither of them were there. Their sudden disappearance made her blood chill, "They're gone." This was more to herself, as he hands began to shake slightly. Stuck in the enclave by the cannon, she wondered if it was best to climb down back into the boat with Killian.

Something grabbed her by the back of her shirt, jerking her out, slamming her body against the cannon as it did so. She squeaked in surprise and pain, as her body was thrown onto the deck. She stared up at the inky black sky as a figure loomed over her, "It would appear we have an infiltrator, Mr. Smee." A deep, gravely voice came from the figure, who moved slightly so the moonlight caught his face.

This had to be Davy Jones. He had a long face, punctuated by very prominent cheekbones. Dark, slicked back hair covered his head. His eyes were small and icy blue, but the pupils were slightly odd- more ovular than circular, Emma instantly thought of a snake. He had full lips, of which were being pulled up into a rather menacing smirk. In a single fluid motion he squat down beside her, his long legs practically towering above her, even in this position. "You're not a Lost Boy though, are you?" His head tilted sideways slightly, but as if his gaze wasn't unnerving enough, his voice sealed the deal. He had a pleasant British accent, with such a low rumble to it Emma almost felt the vibrations of the sound. His tone was modulated, but without even masking the threat underneath. "Who _are_ you dear?"

"She's with me." Emma looked to her side, too afraid to even sit up. Killian swung himself onto the deck. He pulled Emma up off the ground, as Davy Jones stood up to stare them down. He was, without a doubt, the tallest man Emma had ever seen. Killian had his arms on her shoulders, facing her at Davy Jones, and she wasn't sure if this was reassuring or more nerve-wracking. "The one I told you about." Her companion continued, causing Emma to frown and begin to turn in confusion. _Telling him about?_ She thought, dread beginning to creep into her heart. Killian's grip on her shoulders became ironclad, and she found herself being kept still.

Davy Jones' eyebrows shot up, "This is _Her_?"

"Killian what the _hell_ is-" Emma began to say but she was quickly cut off by him.

"The very one." She could hear the smugness radiating from the boy behind her, the feeling in her heart intensified as Davy Jones stuck his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a golden object that glinted in the moonlight.

"I'm surprised Killian," Davy said with a half smile, "From what I'd heard about your relationship with her, I was expecting you to double-cross me."

Killian made a movement that Emma assumed was a shrug, "I want the compass more."

It was then that Emma realized this was about her. Her eyes widened, and she spun around, slamming her fist into Killian's left eye. "You bastard!" She screamed, at his stunned face. However, she was suddenly pulled into Davy Jones' arms, and in a painful grip, he walked her over to the mainmast, and the shorter man (probably Mr. Smee) appeared with a rope. Within seconds she was firmly tied to the mainmast, with a gag in her mouth. She didn't even bother to say Killian's name as he stood paces away, staring down at the compass. What was so special about a stupid compass that was worth trading a human being for? She attempted to move in the ropes, but it was impossible.

Hot tears of frustration and rage flowed down her cheeks, and she wished she could bite her way through this gag in her mouth. The ropes began to chafe her skin the more she struggled, and eventually she stopped moving, simply glaring at the three males as they conversed (it was more two, since Mr. Smee seemed more of the silent and timid type). "How will you find a portal?" Davy asked Killian, who had pocketed the compass.

The traitor shrugged, "Peter Pan owes me a favor." His eyes flicked to the side, and Emma knew that was not true in the slightest. _He's lying! He will double cross you! He's probably about to stab you in the back that evil monster!_ Emma wished she could scream these words, as she felt the most potent emotional hurt of her life. She felt battered and bruised when not a single thing had happened to her.

"Is this still about that girl?" Davy inquired, waving his arm as if trying to remember something. "Mina? Millie?"

"_Milah_." Killian corrected, his voice had gone down slightly, and Emma saw him glance over at her. She glared back at him, and he frowned. _Good_. She thought spitefully, knowing it was of no consequence. He was free and she was not.

She should have known better. Of _course_ there was a reason Killian needed her around. She was some kind of bargaining chip with Davy Jones, of which Killian would somehow use to get a portal to his precious _Milah_. No _wonder_ he'd been so cagey on the subject of portals, he was trying to get one for himself! The steam of obscenities that went through Emma's mind had no limit.

Davy Jones, who Emma was liking more and more with each passing second, did not seem convinced. "It's been over a hundred years, Killian. She's probably dead, you know how time is in the Enchanted Forest."

Killian faltered, "It hasn't been that long." He said abruptly and turned, "You have her, so I'll be leaving." Davy reached out and squeezed the teen's shoulder as he climbed over the deck. Killian cast Emma one quick look before disappearing.

"Mr. Smee, go to bed." Davy said after Emma assumed he'd watched Killian leave.

"B-b-b-but C-c-captain-" The man stuttered in protest.

"-Go to _bed_, Mr. Smee." The short man handed Davy an object before leaving, of which Davy rotated in his hands as he stepped towards Emma. The moonlit illuminated the object, a rounded wooden box, heavily engraved like it was made of entwining vines. The captain stood in front of Emma, still admiring the box. "The sting of betrayal," He drawled, "Poignant, isn't it, Savior?"

He obviously was not looking for a response, but as his icy eyes followed hers, he seemed to note she was looking at the box. "You want this don't you?" His voice cut right through her, as if he could read her mind. "I know Ursula does. Old witch." His voice was so soft and deep, she almost couldn't hear him. "Well," A cruel smile appeared on his lips, "You're not going anywhere. Have a good look at it." He placed it before her on the ground, and began to walk away. "_I'm_ going to bed. I'm sure you can keep an eye on the deck." He announced with a laugh, and she heard his steps retreat and eventually disappear.

* * *

Something brushed against her arm, and Emma slammed her head against the mast as she awoke. Her neck was stiff from her head hanging as she slept against the mast, and she winced as she began to open her eyes. Sapphire blue eyes stared back at her, and she tried to scream in surprise but the gag remained in place. "Emma- calm down." Killian- it was that evil-

He knelt down slightly, avoiding her thrashing torso, and began to untie the knot that had been mockingly tied above her stomach (within plain sight but untouchable). She paused what she was doing and let him continue, too confused and exhausted to even make sense of what was happening. Was he _rescuing _her? "_Please_ don't scream." He whispered as the ropes fell loose, and she quickly untangled herself and ripped off the gag.

Without a moments hesitation she slammed her hands against his chest, shoving him backwards. "You manipulating, evil _dick_!" She hissed, only stopping her warpath when she almost tripped over the box. She knelt down to pick it up, and then shoved Killian aside, heading towards one of the rowboats attached to the Jolly Roger.

"Emma- listen to me- Emma, stop!" Killian grabbed her wrist, "I asked you to _trust_ me, and you said you _did_."

She stopped and turned to him slowly, "I should have _known_ I was going to get backstabbed by you. _Everyone _warned me not to trust you, and of course being the _idiot_ that I am, I _did._" Her voice was barely a whisper but he seemed to catch every word.

Several things moved in the air above them, causing Emma to look up. She nearly shouted from surprise, as Eric and all the boys she rescued floated above their heads. They were all armed and Eric waved at her hesitantly as they all landed on the deck. "I wasn't going to _leave_ you here." Killian insisted, gesturing up at them.

"What if he killed me?" Emma said, voicing the concern she'd been wrestling with for the past few hours.

Killian's grip moved to her hand, "He wouldn't, I knew he wouldn't."

"How _well_ you know me." A voice boomed from the forecastle deck, and within moments the deck was swarming with burly and vicious looking men. Davy Jones jumped down from the elevated deck, and began to march over to them. His strides were long and confident, but Emma noticed he was quite unarmed. He still wore his long black coat and black clothes underneath, but no weapon was evident. All the other men were clearly armed, so this struck Emma as odd. "But you forgot how well _I_ know _you_, Killian." As he neared, Killian took a defensive stance in front of her, his sword at the ready.

"Emma," He hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "Get off this ship _now_."

This was easy to say, she remarked, noting the men approaching her from behind. As if a spark went off, the deck suddenly erupted into chaos. The boys and the men began to attack each other with the clashes of swords drowning out any other noise. Panicking, as she became surrounded, Emma noticed little Max, obviously too young to fight, hovering in the air several feet above her. As Davy Jones continued to progress towards her, she screamed the boy's name. He looked at her and she threw the box at him, eliciting a roar of rage from Davy Jones. The boy's tiny hands managed to catch it, and she motioned for him to fly away. Without further notice, Max was gone.

Emma turned to face the men behind her, thankful there were only two. They were slower than Killian, which was what she was used to, and with Ivory in her hand, she managed to quickly disarm them and after knocking one out, managed to do the same with the other. She turned back, noting several boys at the forecastle deck were struggling. Most however, seemed to be using some kind of black powder which was making the Jolly Roger's crew topple over like dominoes. Her desire to protect the boys in trouble overwhelmed her, and she ran across the deck, ducking to avoid several blows aimed at her by various men.

As she passed, she noticed Davy Jones and Killian slowly circling each other amidst the madness, in the center of the boat. Emma approached the boys in trouble, who were completely disarmed (and without the strange powder, apparently) and unable to fly away. While Emma wanted to know where their newfound flying abilities had come from, but now was not the time to ask. She raised her leg and kicked one of the men over, knocking him into another. The three still standing rounded on her, raising their swords in synch. The boys she'd been trying to rescue were now at the men's backs, and took the opportunity to tackle them from behind.

All the howling and fighting came to a sudden halt, as a deafening roar echoed across the boat. Everyone simultaneously turned to the center of the boat, where Davy Jones' body began to contort and warp. His muscles rippled and twisted, bones cracking into different positions. His teeth began to grow and separate as his nose and chin suddenly jutted forwards, elongated into a snout. He fell to the floor, his clothes morphing into his skin, then changing into scales. Within seconds, a _huge_ crocodile remained where Davy Jones once stood.

"Oh my god." Emma gasped, looking at Killian. The crocodile- this was _the_ crocodile! As in the one that... "Killian! Get away from him!" She screamed all resentment gone and replaced with sheer fear, but he didn't even look at her. He was too busy starting at the reptile mere feet from him.

The crocodile remained still, watching Killian as he circled it slowly. Its tail swished slowly, reminding Emma distinctly of a cat about to pounce. Everyone else seemed frozen for a moment, transfixed at the scene playing out. Emma took the chance to knock one of the men she was fighting on the head, and he crumpled to the floor. The fighting resumed instantly, with the boys regaining their momentum. Eric was surprisingly strong, as Emma saw him throw a man overboard off the quarter deck.

However, she could hardly focus when the crocodile snapped forwards at Killian's leg. He barely moved out of the way, slashing at its snout with his sword. It made a terrifying hissing noise, scaling backwards and watching him yet again. Killian's eyes stayed focused on the crocodile, but the slight tremor in his sword (which she could see even from where she stood) made it clear he was terrified. This upset Emma the most, since fear did not seem to be an emotion Killian could feel.

Davy Jones launched at Killian's leg once more, he managed to dodge it by a hair with the crocodile's chin brushing his leg. Emma couldn't wait any longer. "Everyone leave!" She screamed over the din of the fighting, as the boys managed to knock out Davy's crew with the powder given to them by the fairies, they then began to fly off as the effects of, what Emma was beginning to believe was pixie dust, lingered upon them. Emma wished she'd been given some of it, but now was not the time.

There were only three of them conscious on the ship now, but Emma was up on the forecastle deck whereas Killian was facing off with Davy Jones towards the main mast. She began to run to them, but tripped over some uncoiled ropes, her knees burned from the contact with the wood. She heard another loud hiss, and scrambled to her feet, clutching Ivory in her hand. In keeping her eyes on Killian across the ship, Emma nearly fell over yet again on the unconscious body of Davy Jones' crew. Looking down as she jumped over all these amounting obstacles, she lost sight of where she was going.

The blond practically stumbled onto the edge of their fight, of which Davy Jones took quick notice, the slit pupils flickered sideways to where she stood. After several moments of silence punctuated by Emma and Killian's heavy breathing, his reptilian form turned away from Killian and began to lumber towards Emma at a pace she thought crocodiles were incapable of moving at, its mouth widening and angling for her stomach.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

She stepped backwards, in a feeble attempt to avoid being bitten. Killian appeared from her side, throwing himself in front of her and knocking Emma to the ground behind him. All she could do was watch as the giant crocodile's mouth widened and clamped down on Killian's empty left hand.

Blood exploded from the mangled mess that had been his hand mere seconds before, and as Davy Jones drew backwards, Killian fell to his knees holding his bloody arm. Emma realized she'd screamed, and jumped up, grabbing her sword as she did so. She ran in front of Killian, her limbs shaking violently. Davy Jones seemed slightly stunned, and she ran forwards and rammed her rapier into his left eye and pulling it back.

He transformed back into a man, howling on the ground, blood oozing from the socket as he brought his hand to it. "_You_-" He growled suddenly, grabbing her ankle and pulling her to the ground, "I will tear you... limb- from limb-" His grip was slippery from his blood, and Emma kicked at his face. He roared as she made contact with his cheekbone, and she felt his nails dig into her leg.

A pulse of magic was released from her chest, shooting Davy Jones across the deck and slamming him against the side of the ship, knocked out cold. Without a further thought, Emma scrambled to her feet and turned to see Killian swaying on his knees, his eyes vacant and his skin ashen. "No, no, no!" She cried, "Look at me- Killian!" She placed her hands on his cheeks, and turned his face to her. His eyes were glazed over and she began to cry. Using Ivory to cut off a strip of her shirt, she looped it around the wound, tying it tight.

Something rustled behind her, and Emma grabbed her sword as she spun around. Peter Pan floated there, seated as if he were lounging at some kind of event. "Now _look_ at the mess you've made." He leaned over to look at Killian, and laughed a cruel empty laugh, "Had better days, Killian?"

"Get away from us!" Emma screamed, another pulse of magic emitted from her chest. However, given that Pan was already in the air, he was merely pushed several feet backwards.

Within seconds he was within inches of Emma's face, far too close for comfort. "I'm here to help." His voice was barely a whisper, making her hairs stand on end.

She pushed the tip of her sword against the skin of his collarbone, almost breaking the skin. "Get. Away. _Now_." Her tone was murderous, and for a moment Emma hardly recognized herself.

Pan pulled back and rolled his eyes, "I _thought_ we might have this issue." He snapped his fingers, and something grabbed Emma from behind, pulling her into the air. She attempted to slash at her attacker with her sword, but nothing happened. It was the shadow again. Several yards away, Peter had grabbed Killian and was flying through the sky in the same direction. "Let me go- let him go!" Emma screamed, wiggling in the shadow's grasp.

"In the ocean?" Pan laughed, pulling up alongside her. "Rethink your choice of words." At this point it was evident that Killian had passed out, as he lay limp in Pan's arms, a dead weight that seemed to be of no issue to Pan.

"Why are you doing this?" She finally asked, trying to look into those lamp-like eyes of his.

They met her gaze, gold and cat-like, "He was my closest friend once." His voice was devoid of any emotion, but somehow, Emma could tell he meant it. "I also hate Davy Jones." He added with a smirk, "The fight was hardly quiet. The whole of Neverland could hear it." After a pause, he continued, "Now, you have three options." Emma blinked, surprised that he had changed the subject. "One: take him to the Mohicans. His chance of survival there is fairly good, but he would be at risk for infection. Two: Take him to Ursula for-"

"-Out of the question."

"_Three_: Pixie Hollow."

Emma narrowed her eyes, "No one lives there."

Pan gave her a deadpan look, "I know you released those two fairies. They went back and got the whole lot free."

Emma looked at Killian's gray face for only a moment before making her decision.

* * *

When they landed at the edge of the fairy's home, Pan leaned Killian against a tree. "I, _obviously_, cannot be here." He leaned over and murmured into Emma's ear, "Owe me one, Swan." And with that, he and his shadow disappeared.

Not wasting anytime, Emma grabbed Killian by the armpits and dragged him into the clearing that made up Pixie Hollow. He was super heavy, and this was probably not good for his clothes, but she honestly did not care at this point. "_Vera! Rosa!_" Her voice was shrill but loud, as she passed into the realm of the fairies.

Everything was brightly lit, with winking lights in all the holes in the trees. Fireflies glowed everywhere in a variety of colors, and everything was so dazzling Emma almost forgot her original purpose. "Emma!" She heard multiple ethereal voices coo, as a huge _swarm_ of fairies gathered around her.

"She's so pretty!"

"Her hair is like gold!"

"Let me see!"

Hysteria built in her gut, and Emma's hands began to shake. "Stop! Killian needs help- he's..."

The fairies silenced, collectively moving down around Killian's body that Emma still held. Several lightly touched the blood-soaked bandage, and a murmur spread through the group. Vera detached from them and flew up to Emma's face, hugging her nose. "Bring him to Milah's cabin." As the fairies began to dance on Killian's body, he grew lighter and lighter until he began to hover in the air around Emma's hip. _Pixie dust._ Emma realized, as she gently pulled him into the cabin.

She kicked the door open, moving quicker now that she had an actual destination. The swarm of fairies followed her, lighting up the room with their external glow. "Come outside," Rosa said, appearing by her collarbone and tugging on her hair. "You might upset the balance of magic."

Rosa guided her to a tree stump in the middle of the clearing, where Emma practically collapsed onto it. She heard a light buzzing and even more fairies gathered around her, all of them whispering in their strange voices. She felt a slight tugging on her hair, and noticed several fairies holding a comb, going around and about her head. Emma closed her eyes, and several tears rolled down her cheeks.

Everything was a mess.

She felt something brush against her cheek, and saw a few fairies scooping up her tears and holding them in their hands. They looked at her with their strange glittering eyes, smiling blissfully. "These are magical." A pink one insisted, "But that doesn't mean you have to keep crying."

A teal male fairy beside her nodded, "Fairy magic is very strong. Your friend will be fine."

Rosa sat down on the top of Emma's hand, "We can't grow back the hand though. We're not that strong."

She nodded slowly, exhaling. "Rosa, is there..." She paused, feeling sick at the realization that the story of Peter Pan was slowly coming to be. "Something we can make for his hand?"

The fairy cocked her head, "What do you mean?"

Emma got up, feeling a weight on her head, she ran her hand over her hair and realized it had been intricately braided. She got on her knees by a patch of dirt, and with her finger began to draw out the contraption from the stories on Captain Hook's hand. "You can make different attachments to go in it... forks, knives... even hooks."

The fairies who had gathered around her began to squeal with excitement. "We _love_ crafting!" Rosa squeaked, and Emma couldn't contain her disbelief. This was crafting for them?

They flew off, and soon the entire field seemed to be buzzing with the voices of hundreds or even thousands of fairies. Emma was left to her own devices, and she merely sat around, occasionally glancing over at the cabin, where flashes of bright light could be seen coming from the window and through cracks in the walls. Vera eventually made her way over to Emma, with a rather fluffy looking leaf. The fairy ran it against her skin, under her eyes and around her nose, and despite her confusion, Emma remained still. The fairy whistled a tune, which sounded more like wind blowing through tree leaves than anything else.

* * *

Hours passed, and Emma alternated between pacing heavily and having short conversations with assorted fairies. They loved playing with her hair more, and it got to the point where she would sit for hours and let them braid and unbraid her hair, weaving flowers and other things into her blond locks.

Eventually, she was informed she could go in. Running into the cabin, she was relieved to find it empty. Killian lay on the bed, tucked into the covers, propped up on several pillows. How the fairies had managed to accomplish this Emma did not know, but she was glad he looked comfortable. His left arm, however, lay at his side, the wound at his wrist had now healed cleanly into a scarred stub.

She sat down at his side, and despite the movement, he remained asleep. She didn't say anything, mostly because she didn't want to wake him... and because she had no idea what to say. Gingerly she placed her hand over his right hand, which was closest to her. His skin was cool, but as the minutes went by, it warmed against her touch.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, or if she'd even fallen asleep sitting up (a night without sleep was finally catching up to her), but a slight shift under her hand occurred, and she looked over to see Killian stirring.

His eyelids opened and closed several times, his eyes not quite focusing on anything. Eventually he looked up at her, and she felt his hand turn over under hers and gripped her strongly. "I'm so sorry." He finally whispered, his eyebrows came together and tilted upwards, his mouth turned downwards. "I should have told you about my deal with Davy..."

"I kind of wish you had." Emma said with the tiniest smile, "Though I guess my reaction would be less genuine."

"Ah... yes." He lifted his left arm up as if to touch the developing black eye, but seemed to remember he had no hand to do so with. He stared at the place where his left hand had once been, various emotions quickly flickering across his face. Her heart tightened in her chest when she noticed tears developing on his lower eyelids, and she squeezed his hand. He lowered his arm and looked at her, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something but no words came out. The look on his face was nothing she'd ever seen on a boy his age; he looked ten years younger, terrified and lost.

Emma wanted to help, to say some encouraging words- _anything_. But she had never been one for comforting, swallowing what felt like a lump in her throat, "I took his eye out." She finally managed to say, and Killian let out a light scoff.

"You're certainly one of a kind, Emma." He began to move himself over to his left, towards the wall, and pulling his right hand from hers he patted the bed. "Kick your shoes off and get in."

"W-what?" Emma stammered, a blush rising in her cheeks.

He rolled his eyes, "Emma, I just lost my hand and I'm probably still in recovery. Stop acting like a doe-eyed ninny and just keep me company." He paused, and gave her the best puppy-eyes she'd ever seen in her life. "Please." It was a plea, not a demand.

Within moments she had her shoes off and slid under the covers beside him, and he wove his right arm under her neck. The bed was larger than she expected, but still rather close. Regardless of her uncomfortableness at the start, Emma immediately found herself growing accustomed to Killian's soft breathing and her eyes closed as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**I had an insane amount of fun writing this chapter, and it was the first I began writing from the middle to the end, and then adding the beginning on. So, about Killian's hand... sorry not sorry, he had it coming. I nearly split this chapter in two, cutting off where Killian betrays Emma, but I just had to get it all out. So, did anyone actually call Davy Jones being the crocodile? Or the fact that the demise of Killian's left hand was coming? **


	12. Drumming Song

**Chapter Twelve: Drumming Song**

Emma wasn't sure how long she'd slept for, however, she knew that she'd just had the best night of sleep since arriving in Neverland. Killian was practically a radiator of heat, the blanket hardly had to do any work.

Her eyes opened and she noted that he was still asleep. No doubt he was exhausted, possibly due to blood-loss more than lack of rest. Their positions had shifted from when she originally fell asleep, as she remained with her head on his right arm, though now his left arm was draped across the curve of her waist, holding her close.

Though, in his sleep, Killian probably didn't recall his hand was no longer there. He suddenly gasped, his eyes flying open, causing Emma to jump slightly. "You all right?" Her voice was concerned, her eyebrows coming together as his eyes focused on hers.

He didn't answer immediately, but his breathing was slightly labored. "Nightmare." He finally muttered, his eyes moving to where his left arm lay. For a split second he looked sad, but then he seemed to become angry. "Did he die?" He finally asked, his expression stern as he looked at Emma.

"I don't know..." Her voice was soft, his building rage was not a positive sign. "I mean, he _should_ have hemorrhaged or something but-"

"-I don't know what that means," Killian interrupted her, "But you think he might have survived."

She frowned, sitting up slowly. "You shouldn't think about it."

He sat up as well, and he looked down at his left arm as he touched the stub with his remaining pointer finger. "How can I not." His voice was thick with multiple emotions, and she almost missed what he said.

She touched his shoulder, "I think there's something you should see." She hopped out of the bed, and threw the covers off, pulling him out. Grabbing his hand, she opened the front door and pulled him into the clearing. Even in the daylight everything glowed and sparkled. "The fairies are back." His expression, severe only moments before, visibly softened. She tugged him towards the tree stump in the center, where a cluster of fairies had gathered.

They all squealed with delight when she neared them, and she heard her name repeated multiple times. "We finished it!" A purple fairy exclaimed as she wrapped herself in strands of Emma's hair.

Her eyes widened as she remembered what she'd asked of them. "Can we see it, please?" She asked and all the fairies began to sing as they flew away.

"What are you talking about?" Killian asked, his grip on her hand tightening.

She looked back at him, "It sucks when you're out of the loop, doesn't it?" She said sardonically.

His eyebrows furrowed, "I _apologized_-"

Emma laughed, "I'm joking. You're forgiven." He relaxed, but a frown remained on his face. She grew serious, "I asked them to make you something."

His blue eyes narrowed, intensified by his dark lashes. "Are you going to explain?"

She shook her head, "Nope." Moving up to him, she stood on her tiptoes until she was nearly at eye level with him. "Do you trust me?"

His eyes remained narrowed, "Yes?"

"Say it like you mean it!"

He finally smiled, his eyes relaxing. "More than anyone."

This was not what she'd expected him to say, the color of her cheeks showed it. Turning away, she let go of his hand, running her hands through her hair nervously. "Good, well... then, uh, just wait."

The fairies returned with several objects that required at least fifteen of them to carry a piece. They lay them down on the tree stump, and quickly began to instruct Killian on the use of the attachment piece. Vera tugged on Emma's hair, pulling her several feet away. "We went back to his cabin, to get some things to use..." No wonder it had taken over a day, even with magic. Vera flew up next to Emma's ear, landing on her shoulder. "While we were there, the Crocodile Man came. He couldn't get past the barrier but... we got scared." _Understandable_, Emma thought. "We only managed to get the big hook." She pointed at the very object, of which Killian was examining in his right hand.

"Thank you so much, Vera." Emma said smiling at the fairy, who burst into giggles. They went back to the group of fairies hovering around Killian, some of whom had moved into his hair, making minuscule braids in a way that made Emma think of an elf.

He didn't seem to notice, as he twisted the hook into his new attachment. "Interesting." He muttered to himself, turning his arm in all directions. His blue eyes made contact with her own, "You asked them to do this?"

She nodded, "I thought you might prefer it to nothing. Extra weapon," She joked, motioning to the hook. However, she instantly regretted her words as that dark look crept into his eyes once more. Clearing her throat, she picked up the fork appendage, "So you can still eat. Um, is that a fishing rod?" The fairies squeaked that it was, and Emma held up the miniature rod. It was tiny, but she couldn't help but smile at the fairies' choice of priorities.

There was also a small crossbow, which was significantly less adorable; and a knife, a claw-like device... what were these fairies even thinking? Killian, however, seemed thrilled. Though, Emma noticed his obvious fixation with the hook.

This made the pit in her stomach drop, since this meant a great variety of things and none of them were good. She'd hoped he wouldn't become Captain Hook. She felt that keeping the hook from him would probably come back to haunt her eventually, since fate seemed to be playing out no matter what. When she suggested the hook to the fairies she had hoped they wouldn't take it seriously, more of a suggestion than anything. _I'm such an idiot, _ she thought, biting her lower lip.

She wanted him to remain Killian, _her_ Killian... _not_ Captain Hook. _No! What am I thinking... _he wasn't hers, she thought as she watched him fiddle with the fishing rod contraption.

* * *

A gloom settled about her for the remainder of the day, and it took all her energy not to let it show. Vera and Rosa seemed to notice, however, probably since they seemed to be experts on the subject of happiness. "You two should go to the waterfall!" Vera chirped, flicking her wrist as a soft blanket landed on Emma's head.

"Oooh! The waterfall!" Rosa exclaimed, causing a blanket to land on Killian's head.

"It's _so_ much fun!" Vera insisted, pulling Emma's hair in the direction.

She bit her bottom lip, "I can just go alone..." She tried to say, but Killian scoffed.

"You'll probably end up kidnapped or hurt yourself."

Her eyebrows came together and she tried to mask her growing irritation, "I am perfectly capable of defending myself. I _don't_ need you to protect me." It didn't help that they were surrounded by curious fairies, Emma just needed to collect her thoughts. But she wasn't going to be able to, it seemed. They walked down the path to the waterfall, which was lit by glowing mushrooms that showed the way.

"Emma," Killian finally started after minutes of walking in silence, catching her arm with his hook, "I know you can take care of yourself- I wasn't being serious."

"It's not that," She murmured, avoiding his gaze. She separated her arm from his hook's grip, and kept walking.

He trotted up beside her, "Why are you in such a pissy mood then?" Annoyance was creeping into his tone, and as they finally reached the waterfall and pool below it, they stopped at the pool's edge. It wasn't too large, and the waterfall was hardly even three feet wide.

"I am _not_ in a pissy mood!" She snapped, knowing this was obviously a lie. What Killian didn't know was that her 'pissiness' was justified. Emma knew what happened to Captain Hook in Peter Pan. He died. The crocodile finally got him in the end. And in this world, if the crocodile didn't, Ursula surely would.

She was also angry that he hadn't told her about the golden compass. And while she forgave him for it, she was angry that _Milah_ was the desire behind it. The way he spoke about her... no! She was _not_ jealous, this was _not_ happening.

Killian dropped his blanket and had ripped off his shirt, "Could have fooled me!" He spat back to her comment, pulling off his boots and angrily splashing into the water.

She stood on the shore, watching him swim into the pool, headed for the waterfall. His arm movements were slightly awkward with the hook, but his kick was strong. The compassionate side of her mind couldn't help itself: _he _did_ lose his hand trying to save me._ This was hardly a comforting thought and it only made her feel more miserable. Killian reached the rocks near the base of the waterfall, reaching up with his hook, he began to scale the side of the waterfall. He fumbled several times with the hook's grip on the rocks, but he moved like a lizard, quick and confident.

Sighing, she pulled off her shirt. She still had the bandages firmly tied around her breasts, which she figured was as close to a bathing suit top as she was going to get. The bandages were made of a dark, thick cloth, so she felt rather confident about it not going see-through. Not that it mattered, as she pulled off her trousers (wearing the dark boy-short underwear Tiger Lily made), she felt this was a rather acceptable makeshift bathing suit.

Killian didn't seem to notice or care, as he stood at the top of the waterfall, the water rushing about his feet as he stared up at the sky. Emma waded into the water, gasping at the chill of the water on her skin. She moved in quicker, dunking herself underwater as soon as it was deep enough to do so. The cold water jolted her into focus and goosebumps covered her skin. She looked up just in time to see Killian launch himself off the waterfall down into the pool, about a twenty foot drop.

He surfaced several seconds later, but not after giving Emma a near heart attack. He looked in her direction briefly, before swimming under the rushing waters. Emma stayed where she was, about chest-deep in the water. She idly rubbed her foot against a slick algae covered rock, trying to clear her head.

But she was so _angry_ and... worried.

She went underwater, using her arms to keep her in a crouched position towards the bottom. Growing up, Emma never had many opportunities to go swimming. Only two of the families she stayed with had pools, and both of her times with them had been in the winter. She used to submerge herself when she'd take baths. Not to suffocate herself or anything like that, but to feel weightless. It only lasted a split second in the bathtub, before she'd surface immediately, but in larger bodies of water...

She watched the bubbles escape her mouth and float upwards, and she stared up at the sky. With everything so silent underwater, save for her exhalations and heartbeat, Emma began to find her clarity just as she ran out of breath. Jumping up and out of the water, she quickly filled her lungs with air. Killian was nowhere to be seen. _He probably went behind the waterfall._ She thought, attempting to shrug it off.

However after a minute or two, she grew slightly concerned. Sighing as she pushed off the ground and began to slowly move towards the waterfall, she double checked he wasn't about to jump off the top. That would be a horrific accident. He wasn't there, so she proceeded to the waterfall.

Ducking under the water as it collided with the pool, Emma avoided the pounding sensation of the waterfall. Behind it was a small indent in the rock face, where one could climb out and watch the waterfall. Killian sat there, his back to the waterfall, scratching his hook into the rock. As she swam closer she noticed it was just lines, but each one she saw seemed deeper than the next. She watched him for a few minutes, hardly daring to make a sound, despite how poorly she could tread water. Each time he finished a line, he'd examine his hook fixedly.

"You'll damage it." Emma finally said, her voice echoing in the small space.

He jumped slightly, bringing his hook down onto his lap. "It's fine." He finally responded, not turning to look at her. "Are you still in a mood?" His voice was soft, but not kind.

She held onto the rocky edge he sat on for support, "Yes."

He finally broke his gaze from the wall in front of him to look at her, "Then why are you here?"

She kicked her legs and slowly pushed herself up on the ledge, her stomach flopping ungracefully against the stone. Once she finally managed to pull herself up and out of the water, she sat next to him, but facing the waterfall, so she could see his face at the same time. "I'd like some answers."

His expression was stoic, clearly guarded. He began to absently run his pointer finger along his hook, and Emma hoped this wasn't meant to intimidate her... because it did. "I would as well." He finally responded, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.

Emma took a breath, "What does that compass do? I mean, it must be pretty important to backstab and trade your friend for."

His lips narrowed and he visibly grit his teeth, "You said you forgave me."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still upset about it."

"So then you _haven't_ forgiven me." His voice had dropped quite low, making Emma really worry that he would lose his temper.

She regarded him evenly and then slowly said: "I suppose I _haven't_."

He looked down at his hook, "The compass helps you navigate portals, makes sure you don't wind up someplace else." He looked her up and down quickly and then back at his hand, "Davy cheated me in _that_ arrangement."

Emma squinted in confusion, "Is it broken?"

He looked at the ceiling for a moment in obvious exasperation, "_No_."

"Then _what_?"

He gave her a look like he was speaking to a complete idiot, narrowed eyes and all. "_You_ are far too valuable."

Emma scoffed, "So what, I was worth _five_ compasses, not one?"

Never had her words had such a profound effect on someone, Emma could physically see Killian's whole posture change. He seemed tense and rigid before, but now Emma realized he had been relaxed. His arms crossed against his bare chest, and his eyes felt into the most frightening glare Emma had ever encountered. "Do you think so little of me?" He hissed, his voice nearly unrecognizable. It made her almost think of Davy Jones, which was what upset her most.

She was unsure how to counter. Her gut told her that her usual tactics of defensive anger was not going to help her in this situation. But what could she say? "I trusted you, and you betrayed me." Her voice, much to her displeasure, broke halfway through the word 'and'. "I know you came back, but I just don't understand why you couldn't tell me everything _before_." She was still hurt, and guilt was filtering through as well each time she looked at what was once his hand.

"_Originally_, the plan was to hand you over without a thought." She blinked at this revelation, her breath caught in her throat. "That first night, when I brought you to my cabin-"

Emma suddenly remembered, the noise that had frightened him so much he sent her inside. "Was that... Davy?"

He nodded, his expression still like stone. "I wasn't sure if you were the one he'd been looking for," He then mumbled, "I was hoping you weren't." Turning around his whole body to stare at the waterfall, his hand propped him up besides hers. "However, it became quickly apparent you were, in fact, _Her._"

"And who exactly is Her?" She asked the question gingerly, her heart beating loudly in her chest. Who did they seem to think she was?

He swallowed, "The Savior. 'The one who will save not only her imprisoned people, but who will restore the light to Neverland.' Ursula prophesied this almost a hundred years ago."

"But _how_ do you know that's me?" It was hardly a specific prophesy, and Ursula didn't exactly seem like the trustworthy type.

Killian closed his eyes, Emma wasn't sure what he was doing. "We thought it was Wendy, at first." _As in Wendy from the Peter Pan stories?_ "But she had no magic." His tone implied something else had happened, but he didn't say what. "Then you arrived, unexpected and..." He cleared his throat, his eyes opening but not looking at her. "I had to be sure this time. So I waited, this was a mistake, however."

The more he spoke, the more cryptic he became, and Emma found herself understanding less and less. His hand closed over hers, "From the moment I pulled you out the water you reminded me of Milah. You both have such hot heads and tempers," He looked down at his hook as his arm lay on his lap, a small smile on his face. Emma opened her mouth to object but he plowed on, "You're not her, not at all. Different- yes, different."

For some reason, Emma finally seemed to understand what he was trying to say. "We became friends." She supplemented, and he looked at her oddly.

"Yes..." As he said the word it appeared he didn't quite mean it, "_Friendship_ is what changed my mind." His eyes reduced to a squint of disbelief, and she really didn't get why he was being so weird all the sudden. He began to say something but seemed to change his mind, closing his mouth and then reopening it. "You once mentioned a Captain Hook." Her heart dropped as he lifted his hook until it was parallel with his face, and looked at her. "With a hook for a hand?"

She couldn't breathe. "Very... distinctive." She repeated his words from the first time she mentioned Captain Hook, and they both sat in silence, staring at each other.

Killian was the first to break the silence: "I'm not a captain, though. _Captain_ Hook."

Emma shivered as water from her hair ran down her back. "You're halfway there."

He regarded her, "What happens to this captain?"

"He dies."

Her words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity, with only the sound of rushing water to keep them company. "But, um, things are different from the story I know." She pulled her hand out form under his, and touched his shoulder, "Peter Pan wasn't creepy and corrupted. Davy Jones didn't exist. And _you're_ a lot younger and significantly better looking than you're supposed to be." Emma inwardly winced as soon as she spoke, since he turned to her with a mischievous look on his face.

"You think I'm handsome?" A slow smile spread on his lips and Emma withdrew her hand immediately.

"After what I _just_ told you, _that's_ what you picked up on?" She gasped incredulously. "Urgh!" She climbed off the ledge and back into the water, ducking under the waterfall as she swam. Within moments Killian was beside her, obviously the stronger swimmer, even without his left hand.

"Don't hide it, Swan!" He chuckled, and she honestly wished she'd never spoken at all. He flipped over onto his back, floating along side her as she slowly swam.

"I was just trying to make you feel better," She insisted and he rolled his eyes.

"That's about as believable as Davy Jones being a kind person." His feet sank to the bottom as he stood up, grabbing Emma by the waist and pulling her towards him. It was slightly too deep for her to touch the ground without submerging most of her face, but Killian kept her up.

"Let me go." She whined, pushing lightly against his chest, keeping herself from being pushed against him by the water.

Using his hook to gently tuck her hair behind her ear (a motion that made Emma's chest feel like it was about to explode), "I think you know we would never be friends." His voice had gone deep and husky, and when his eyes flickered from her own to her lips, she knew what was about to happen as he began to lean in.

However, whatever she thought (or hoped) would happen, never did. "Emma? Emma!" A loud voice from the shore called out to them, and she heard Killian groan and released her as he sank down in the water. With only his narrowed eyes and the top of his head visible, he let out a stream of bubbles from his nose, reminding Emma distinctly of an angry crab.

Standing on the shore was Tiger Lily, Eric and Max. Emma quickly swam until she could easily stand, and waded out of the pool. Her face was probably flushed and her heart felt like it would beat itself out of her chest, but she cleared her throat as she grabbed a blanket to cover herself. Eric turned away modestly, but Max merely stared, unabashed in his young age. "What's going on?" She finally managed to ask, her skin finally warming in the blanket.

"The box-" Max began forlornly but Tiger Lily shushed him.

"-Peter Pan stole the box from Max. What was in it?" She asked, her dark brown eyes wide and obviously upset.

Emma bit her lower lip, "I'm not really sure. Ursula really wanted it. I was hoping to trade it for..." She looked over at Killian, who was slowly making his way out of the pool. _I _need_ to get it back, _she thought.

Before Emma could say anything further, Tiger Lily sucked in her breath. "What _happened_?" She gasped, looking at Killian's hook.

He tugged his blanket around himself and stared at her with a deadpan expression, "Aren't you _polite_."

Eric cleared his throat, obviously trying to void the exchange. "Did Davy Jones do that?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Killian shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the focus on his amputation. "Yes."

Max was about to say something, but Eric grabbed him by the shoulders and began to steer him up the path they came on. "Let's go wait at the canoe, Max. Come on."

Taking the hint, Tiger Lily touched Emma's arm lightly before leaving. "Ursula came by this morning." She murmured so only Emma could hear, "She's looking for him. _Don't_ let him go near the sea." She squeezed Emma's arm and walked off after the boys.

Emma stared after her numbly. Now she had no bargaining chip of any kind, there was nothing she could do to save Killian from the Seawitch.

* * *

**These kids. So many hormones. Anyway, the show always bothered me with how chill Hook was about losing his hand (I mean, he hardly reacted at all), so I'm going to try and show Killian learning to live with this change. This chapter was short, after the madness that was last chapter it was hard to write this. I felt a chapter to deal with the fall-out was necessary, a calmer chapter. xD A very Peter Pan centric chapter is coming up soon, along with Ursula's reappearance, and the crocodile has hardly been idle. I think we're maybe at the halfway mark in the story at this point!**


	13. Undisclosed Desires

**Chapter Thirteen: Undisclosed Desires**

Emma stood on the shore, the salty water lapping slowly at her ankles. She'd told Killian and the fairies she needed to relieve herself, so she probably had about two more minutes before everyone started panicking. However, given that she was already five minutes from Pixie Hollow, that gave her seven minutes to do what she needed to do.

"Ursula!" She called out, trying to hide any fear in her voice. "Come out, I know you're here somewhere!" This was purely speculation, but as the water began to bubble heavily several feet before her, she knew she was right.

The Sea-witch rose from the water, the small waves rolling off her shoulders and around her. Her tentacles swirled around her in the water, holding her in place but still moving all the same. She regarded Emma with her black eyes, a wide grin on her face. "_Darling_, here I thought you would never come around." She laughed her deep throaty laugh, "Hand over the box, and I'll spare your boy's life."

Emma bit her lower lip, clearly Ursula was more intelligent than Emma gave her credit for. "Peter Pan stole it." She finally admitted, causing the cecaelian's eyes to narrow.

Ursula puffed her cheeks up with air and then exhaled, "Poor _unfortunate_ soul. Killian is _such_ a catch, it would be a _waste_ to add him to my garden." She chuckled, "Though I do enjoy the company."

"I can get the box back." Emma blurted out the words without even thinking, causing the woman to cock her head sideways slightly.

A slow, menacing smile told her this was just what Ursula wanted her to say. "Lets make a deal, little bird." Her tone was conversational, sugary sweet. She indicated for Emma to wade deeper, which she did, slowly. Raising her trousers as the water reached her knees, something brushed against both of her legs. "Don't mind my babies." Ursula said off-handily, as she summoned a contract from thin air and stared at it intently. Emma realized she was referring to the two eels circling her legs. Suppressing a shudder, the blond turned to face this monstrous woman.

The contract was in glowing gold and near impossible to read, the text was so small and the light coming off it so bright. "I can't read it." Emma stammered, blinking furiously.

Ursula laughed, "You're so _funny_. It says that if you get the box for me in three days, your boy goes free."

Emma felt like that wasn't all there was to it. Ursula didn't appear to be lying but... she wasn't saying something else. "And I _also_ go free?"

The purple woman raised an eyebrow, "Of _course,_ sweet-cheeks." A quill appeared out of thin air and Emma grabbed it, and Ursula continued in her fake-soothing tone: "I _never_ break a contract dearie, as long as you uphold your end of the bargain."

Exhaling, Emma closed her eyes and signed her name at the bottom of the scroll. It instantly disappeared along with the quill, and black tentacles wrapped themselves around Emma's legs, pulling Ursula towards her. "If you _fail_, my dear girl," One of the cecaelian's sharp fingernails jabbed into Emma's chest, "Your heart is mine." She instantly released Emma, her deep laugh rolling out of her throat. "Oh, you foolish girls and your notions of love." She began to turn away, sinking lower into the sea as she moved away. "An old friend once taught me that _love_ is weakness!"

Emma struggled to make it back to shore, her legs were shaking so hard. Flopping down on the sand, she hugged her knees to her chest and tried to steady her breathing. She did _not_ love Killian, she barely knew him well enough for that. He was her friend, her friend, her _friend._ She kept repeating the words over and over in her head, but it only made her more anxious.

Slowly standing up, she stumbled off the beach and made her way onto the path back to Pixie Hollow. This way used to have those jagged crystals covering everything, but they seemed to disappear at her approach. She moved as quickly as she could, hearing a growing noise as she grew closer.

Dread spread throughout her, as the pulsing of music met her ears. The clearing was filled with fairies dancing and flying about everywhere; the flicking of their internal lights illuminating the night, was mixed with stagnant floating lights. Music came from the trees, and it was a bit too fast paced and high pitched for Emma's liking. It was like folk music on fast forwards. She saw a light coming from under the door in the cabin, and she knew that's where she would find Killian.

But, perhaps him being there was a blessing in disguise. Vera zoomed up to her, her flight a little wobbly. "Welcome to the party!" She squealed, giggling as Rosa flew over and bumped into her.

"Is it someone's birthday?" Emma asked, unsure what she was supposed to say.

They shook their heads, collapsing into giggles. "Fairies _love_ parties." Rosa explained, her speech slightly slower than usual. Realization hit Emma, they were... _drunk_. Could fairies even get drunk?

At that same moment, another idea hit her. "Say, girls, do you have any of that knock out powder left? And some pixie dust?" They were already considerably tipsy, surely a little manipulation could go far... Not that Emma endorsed manipulating drunks, but this situation required it.

"Yes we doooo!" Vera cooed, and within moments both fairies returned with two small bottles.

"Have fun Emma!" Rosa squeaked, as she and Vera flew off hand in hand. Pocketing the bottles, Emma wondered if now would be a good time to leave. After all, Killian was in the cabin.

Her heart sank at the thought. He would lose himself with worry and she just couldn't handle knowing that. Smiling at all the wild fairies (_what_ were they drinking?) as she walked past them, Emma pushed the cabin door open. It must have been enchanted, for the noise dropped significantly as soon as she closed the door. "That took you awhile." Killian said, sitting up from where he'd been reclining on the bed.

"I was distracted by the fairies," She lied, and he didn't seem to notice. Two plates were laid out for them on the table, with several of those non-moving floating lights hovering above the table. If she didn't know any better, she would say this setup was very romantic.

This elicited anxiety within her chest, and she bit her lower lip. Her fear was confirmed when Killian pulled out her chair for her to sit, which she did gingerly. How was she supposed to leave now? _I'm such an idiot, I should have just left._ She thought, but considered the fact Killian would probably set off an alarm with all the intoxicated fairies and it would be a mess.

It was then that Emma noticed the plate with a reddish baked fish on it, its dead glassy eye staring at her. Killian must have caught it earlier, when she'd left the pool early. He had been working at the fire outside for awhile before she left, and now she realized why. Placing strange looking vegetables on the side of her plate, he swiftly cut up the fish, separating the bones from the meat.

Once he finished serving them both he sat, and Emma noticed he had switched his hook for the fork. She couldn't help a small smile, knowing this would probably not be as easy as he imagined. He was looking at her expectantly, making her realize she was supposed to start. The fish had a very strong taste, but it wasn't unenjoyable.

As soon as she began, Killian attempted to eat, and she couldn't stifle a laugh at his awkward posture as he attempted to get his fork-hand to his mouth. He looked at her, trying to stifle a grin himself. "Don't laugh at me!"

Emma put her hand on her mouth as she tried to chew, knowing choking wouldn't be very enjoyable. "I'm sorry." She said after she swallowed the fish, unable to stop grinning, "You just look so awkward."

He raised his eyebrows, a coy smile on his face. "_You_ could feed me."

She scoffed, "You're not a baby. Learn to eat on your own."

He sighed and pouted his lips, "Oh, Swan." After a few minutes he finally managed to become more fluid in his movements, though he ate significantly slower than before.

Emma couldn't help but be thankful for this moment. She needed a distraction from what she was expected to do for Ursula. Though, to be honest, Killian was always a distraction. Pretty much since the moment she'd laid eyes on him, actually.

She never had crushes before. Sure, she might find a boy nice and attractive, but she never formed any sort of attachment to them. There was no reason to, since she always felt that she'd either end up moving away or even get rejected. As if being denied permanent homes with families wasn't hard enough, she didn't want to deal with the emotional burden of a romantic rejection as well.

But this situation was different; _Neverland_ was different. She wasn't shuttled around and unwanted; adventure was literally outside her door; she actually met people who actually were happy to see her... she was wanted. She didn't even think about returning to her land anymore, since she felt that she'd finally found a place she belonged.

Tears had filled her eyes as she finished up her fish, one rolling down her cheek before she could blink them away. _Urgh, I'm being so emotional._ She sniffed and hastily wiped it away, but it didn't go unnoticed.

"Is the fish _really_ that bad?" Killian asked, his voice soft with concern. "Or so good you are moved to tears?"

She laughed a little, sniffling again. "It's very good."

He decided not to ask what was wrong and quickly changed the subject, switching his fork for his hook after he finished his food. "Do you dance?"

She shook her head, "No. Never had the chance to learn."

"Sing?"

"Nope."

He paused, "What do you do for fun back at home?"

That was a surprisingly difficult question for her to answer, which in itself was quite sad. "I read." She finally said, since reading was the only thing that ever seemed to entertain her. Running sometimes could be enjoyable, but she didn't do it regularly enough to consider it something she liked to do.

Killian made a face at her, "You're worse off than I thought." He stood up suddenly, catching her wrist with his hook as he made his way to the door. With his hand he grabbed the floating lights, and shoved them into his pocket, where they glowed faintly through the fabric.

He pushed the door open, and weaved her through the clouds of fairies, avoiding them as best as possible. They exited the clearing, but instead of following the path to the waterfall, Killian veered off to the right, on another path lit by mushrooms. It sloped upwards, but he didn't release Emma's wrist. She decided not to ask where they were going, since she knew she'd find out soon enough.

They finally reached the top of the knoll they'd been climbing and Emma's legs were super sore. They paused to catch their breath, and Killian released the floating lights. "We'll need to remember where to land." He explained, though it didn't actually clarify anything for Emma. In his left pocket (which he awkwardly had to get with his right hand), he pulled out two bottles with a glittering pale yellow powder. "You're not the only one on good terms with the fairies. They love my long locks." He shook his head and hair dramatically and Emma raised her eyebrows as she noticed all the minuscule braids hidden in his dark hair. Without further comment he uncorked the first bottle with his teeth, and dumped the contents on Emma's head before she could even react.

There was a gentle tugging on her head, as a sense of lightness spread through her body. Her feet began to drift up off the ground slowly, and her eyes widened in both surprise and wonder. Killian was also beginning to float, and within a minute they were hovering a foot off the ground. "This is amazing!" Emma whispered, and she looked at Killian. "How do you move?"

He shot forwards several feet, "Just think about where you want to go. Like when you walk."

She raised an eyebrow, but determination set in. She wanted to go higher, so slowly, she turned her green eyes upwards. Her body lurched towards the heavens, and within moments she was floating at least twenty feet from the ground. Emma couldn't help repeating herself: "This _is_ amazing!" The cool night breeze hit her skin, and above the sky was pitch black only illuminated by the stars and the moon.

Killian flew up beside her, "I will assume pixie dust isn't common where you come from."

She laughed, "It doesn't even exist." If it did, cars and airplanes certainly would stop being used other than for transporting large objects. Everyone would rather fly than drive, Emma was sure of it.

"Let's go, I'll give you a tour of Neverland." He held out his hook, which Emma gripped onto without hesitation. She saw his expression brighten instantly when she did so, and her response was for her heart to tighten in her chest. The wind glided through her hair and clothes, but she didn't feel cold at all. It was pleasant, and yet again, she found herself forgetting about her important mission.

Killian seemed to enjoy flying very high, only to suddenly dip low if he found a landmark of interest. One of the first major ones was the Mohican's camp, which glowed brightly against the dark forest surrounding it. They were too far for Emma to make out any of the faces, but there was a big bonfire and she heard singing of some kind. "Is _everyone_ partying tonight?" She thought aloud, causing Killian to laugh.

"It would appear so." Before she could ask if they could join the Mohicans, he sped off, with her in tow. After five minutes he dived downwards, giving Emma a heart attack as they only _just_ grazed the surface of the relatively calm ocean. A huge rock jutted out of the sea, which they stopped in front of. It seemed familiar to Emma, but she wasn't exactly sure why. "This is Skull Rock, where you appeared."

In the moonlight, Emma could clearly see where it got its name. "It's so creepy." She murmured, staring at the two gaping holes in the rock that made the eyes and the wide open mouth.

Killian nodded, tugging her onwards. As they flew, Emma realized she didn't really care where they were going. As long as she was with- _no! I am not a sappy little girl with a crush_. Or at least, she truly wanted to believe that.

Truth be told, their almost kiss earlier had her rattled. It was more that she was bothered by how _much_ she actually wanted it to happen, as opposed to not wanting it. She hadn't even known him that long, but there was a feeling growing within her that she was struggling to dismiss. She felt foolish and pathetic, Ursula's comment about love being weakness continued to swim through her thoughts.

It wasn't love. Emma didn't believe in love at first sight or any nonsense like that. If anything, she would admit it was an attraction. A _very_ strong attraction, but nothing more. "... the Jolly Roger." Killian was pointing to a dark blip in the water, when Emma realized she'd completely zoned out. He didn't seem to be slowing down, as they passed a very large tree Emma instantly recognized. "Peter Pan's home... better keep moving away from it."

"I couldn't agree more." Emma said half-heartedly, knowing she would have to return there soon enough.

They came to a sudden halt, with Killian's free hand gripping hers. "Is this boring you?" The earnestness in his voice was all too much for her.

"No!" She blurted out loudly, "Not at all! I'm sorry if it seems that way..." She was just very distracted.

His eyes searched hers for a moment, before pointing below them. "Mermaid lagoon." She looked down, at a small inlet where the water seemed to really sparkle in the moon's light. "I think you know better than to go there at night." When she looked up at his face he was smiling, and she couldn't help but smirk back.

Heading back towards the fairies' home, Killian brought them down by the water. Several donut-like rock formations appeared before them, with their center holes varying in different sizes. "The boys and I used to race through these." He was grinning ear to ear like a little boy in a candy shop, "You go through this one, over that one, and repeat the pattern until you get to the end." He used his hands to illustrate a weaving motion.

She squinted at the rocks as she tried to count them all, "How many are there?"

"Eight."

Emma's eyebrows shot up, "Is this safe?"

He paused his smile faltered for only a split-second, "Er... no." When her eyes widened, he waved his hand and hook. "We only lost three boys doing it, don't worry!"

"_What?"_

He burst into laughter, "You're so serious, Swan. I'm _joking_!"

She huffed, "Now you're going _down_."

Together they counted off to three, and Emma shot forwards far faster than she thought she could. This was terrifying, since she nearly slammed into the second rock, the one she should have been flying over. Skimming her knees on the top of it, she cursed and dived down to pass through the third formation. Killian was several feet ahead of her, and laughing the entire time.

However, after the fourth, Emma managed to close the gap slightly, to the point where they were about even. "Don't go easy on me!" She screamed over the wind in her ears.

"Wouldn't dream of it!" He called back as they went around separate sides of the sixth rock. The gap in the middle of the seventh was tiny, and Emma feared that neither of them could make it through at the same time.

She pushed herself forward, hoping to get there first. To her surprise, she did. In fact, she must have outpaced Killian since she went over the eighth and came to a halt. "I won!" She shouted, turning around. However, the dark haired boy was nowhere in sight. "Killian?" The only sound she could hear was that of the waves hitting the cliffside and rocks. "Killian!" Faintly, she heard a shout in the distance. Flying back, she finally spotted him floating in the water in front of the seventh rock.

Coming down to the water's surface, she gasped, "Are you all right? What happened?"

He spat out some seawater, "I misjudged my speed and where I was going." He reached out his hand, "The pixie dust wore off. Pull me out before a siren comes along. Up there to the cliff."

Emma grabbed his hand, and then his hook with her other hand. He was super heavy, and she panted slightly as she pulled him up and onto the lower rim of the seventh rock for a breather. She then got a better grip under his armpits and around his chest, lugging him into the air and up into the top of the cliff. Nearly dropping him on the ground, she nearly collapsed from the strain. "You're... so heavy." The blond exclaimed, realizing her pixie dust was beginning to wear off. She hovered a few inches from the ground, with her toes touching the tips of the grass.

Killian finally responded, pushing himself off the ground and shaking out his wet hair like a dog. "We're close to Pixie Hollow, we'll walk."

"Well I'm _not_ carrying you." Emma said, frowning as her toes began to drag on the ground. She willed herself downwards, instantly missing the feeling of lightness as her feet made contact. "Not that I really could at this point."

He then turned to face her, the moonlight causing his eyes to glint in tandem with the mischievous expression on his face. "I forgot to thank you." Her heart skipped a beat, as he suddenly tackled her in a fierce and completely soaking wet bear-hug.

She squealed like a child (a noise she honestly wasn't aware she could make), "Get off me, Killian!" She squirmed in his arms as she felt her clothes become damp, "You're all wet!"

He let go of her with a laugh that sounded more like a cackle, and she grumbled as they began to walk back to the fairy home. "Thank you though, in all seriousness." Killian's voice was soft, and she felt his hook close around her right hand. She squeezed it subconsciously, as if he could feel it.

She frowned slightly in confusion, "For what? I should be thanking _you_. Dinner and an air tour? It was wonderful." She ended her sentence with a smile, which he returned. She felt her cheeks heat up and _knew_ she was blushing furiously. Much to her surprise, Killian was also bright red.

He pulled her to a stop, "You're incredible." She began to open her mouth, but he put his pointer finger on his lips. "You really are. I... you thought up this whole attachment thing," He moved his left arm, as she still held onto his hook, and as he continued his voice got quieter, the huskiness setting in. His finger left her lips and ran along the line of her jaw, until his hand rested on her neck just under hear ear. "You don't even seem to care that I have a hook for a hand-"

"-Why would I?" Emma responded, her voice breathier than she'd like._You lost it protecting me, why would I even care anyway?_ She couldn't even continue talking, as she was convinced her heart was about to explode from beating so fast.

He merely smiled at her, a sort of blissful expression she hadn't seen on his face before, and in the back of her mind she registered his thumb stroking her cheek. The heat in her face rose, until she felt like she'd gotten a sunburn. She knew what was going to happen, but as he opened his mouth to say something else, Emma knew she could _not_ handle the suspense any longer.

Tugging him slightly downwards by his hook, while running her other hand through his wet hair, Emma stood up on her tiptoes as her lips touched Killian's. Touched being the key word, since after a split second of obviously being taken aback, Killian's arms circled around her back, firmly pushing his lips against hers. This pulled her close as her other hand came to rest on his chest, just under his collar bone.

His lips were soft and he tasted salty (which made a lot of sense considering his recent dip in the ocean), and his skin was cool to the touch. Emma's thought process shut down as the kiss intensified, led more from her end than his, she realized in retrospect.

As she drew back, her breath was a little short but the smile on her face felt inextinguishable. Killian's smile convinced Emma that her heart had swollen twice as large in her chest. She licked her lips subconsciously, "You were taking forever." She finally blurted out, and Killian let out a short laugh.

"I won't make that mistake next time." The second kiss was shorter, but no less wonderful. Warmth spread throughout her body, and Emma never wanted this moment to end. When it did, they walked back slowly, hook in hand.

It was during this walk that Emma realized how deeply she worried about Killian's fate at Ursula's hand. She _would_ get that box back. Looking at Killian, she knew she _had_ to.

* * *

**Oh ****_this_**** chapter. After the close call in the last one, I just felt like Killian would totally try to kiss her again no matter what so I couldn't delay it. I'm just not very good at writing kissing scenes, so I apologize! *hides* Anyway, I feel like as a teen Emma would be far more impulsive and emotional (at least, outwardly) than grown-up Emma. The next chapter or so is kind of when things start getting rough, so I needed to end on a happier note before delving more into Pan and Ursula territory, which is obviously dark and twisted. Um, all your reviews make me smile loads, I can't thank you all enough! :D**


	14. Ready! Aim! Fire!

**Chapter Fourteen: Ready! Aim! Fire!**

_She was suspended in the water, too far down to swim to the surface. The light filtered down dimly to her, while the darkness below her seemed without end. Emma struggled to move, but something emerged from the depths and caught her foot. A singular, dark tentacle; it pulled her slowly downwards, as inky water began to surround her. She was choking as a nasal laugh boomed all round her, as she continued to be pulled deeper still. The water began to churn violently, as if it was being shaken by a colossal force. The laughter intensified, until-_

"Emma!" Her eyes flew open to find Killian's staring into them intently. It was then that she realized she was both sweating and panting, a rather uncomfortable combination. Something cool touched her forehead, and after several moments she realized it was his hand. "Are you all right?"

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but words seemed to be failing her at the moment. She swallowed, hoping to summon her voice back to her. "I'm fine." Her voice was barely audible, hardly giving any credit to her lie. Her heart was racing, and she felt like she had seen a ghost.

The boy beside her frowned, "Considering you _screamed_ in your sleep, I'm going to assume you're lying." He paused, only to slowly turn her arm over with his hook. "There's also _that._"

Her eyes widened as the already present blush on her cheeks intensified, "What?" She looked down at her wrist, where a large and elegant number two was written in black ink on her skin. She licked her thumb and tried to rub it away, but it was almost like a tattoo. Sitting up, Emma shoved her hand under the covers, "It's nothing."

Killian's eyelids lowered and he stared at her, obviously not convinced. "_Terrible_ lying, Swan. I don't even know why you bother." Gently, he fished her arm out of the covers and lay it on top. "When did you make a deal with her?" His voice was smooth, but Emma could tell he was angry. She heard a slightly loud inflection on the word 'when', which was rather telling.

"Yesterday."

He ran his tongue along the top row of his teeth under his lip, a sign Emma knew meant he was thinking of a polite way to yell at her. "What does it entail?" His question had taken her off-guard, as she had been expecting rage.

She blinked several times, "I need to get something from Peter Pan." For some reason, when she attempted to say the word 'box', her mouth formed a different word. Frowning, she knew that was not normal.

Killian's hook lightly traced the two on her wrist, the coolness of the metal sent shivers down her spine. "And you only have two days." She couldn't read his expression, and the tone of his voice was just as stoic. She nodded slowly, beginning to wonder where she'd left her knock-out powder. He wouldn't let her leave, that much she knew. His blue eyes met hers then, his intense gaze was discerning. "Why would you do such a _stupid_ thing?" There it was, the anger she'd been expecting.

He sat up beside her, as he ran his hand through his hair in an obvious attempt to calm himself. It didn't work, since he plowed onwards: "I _know_ you want to go home, Emma, but did you even _think_ about what you were doing?" As his eyes widened, she quickly realized it hadn't been anger he was conveying, it was worry. She bit her bottom lip, unsure what emotions she was experiencing. There was certainly anger at Killian for being angry with _her_, but sadness that he clearly didn't understand why she made the deal. However, her temper flared when he pulled a bottle of black powder and dropped it on the covers. "Was this for me or someone else?"

"You went through my trousers?" She hissed, attempting to grab the bottle but he got there first.

He pointed his hook at her wrist, "I was _concerned_."

She shoved the covers off her as she scrambled out of the bed, striding over to her trousers from the previous day. She felt down the pockets, and both the knock-out powder and pixie dust was gone. "Give them _back_!" At this point she couldn't tell if it was anxiety or pure anger that was making her this livid, her heart was racing that much she was sure of.

Killian's eyes widened and he struggled to detangle himself from the sheets, "I am not letting you go on this stupid suicide mission, whatever it is-"

"-It's for _you_!" The words escaped her mouth before she could even control herself, the boy stopped where he was, mid-movement. "You got yourself into this mess, and I'm trying to _fix_ it."

Color rose to his face and neck, making it plainly obvious she had hit a nerve. Or several. "I can handle myself, Emma! It's not your concern." In his sudden movement out of the bed, the bottles slipped out of his pocket and onto the ground. Emma lunged at them, catching them before they could shatter. She hit the floor hard, the wind knocked clean out of her.

Killian was crouched beside her within moments, slowly sitting her up. Gritting her teeth, Emma blinked back tears of pain. "You have..." Where was her breath? "No more bargaining... items."

He pulled her up to her feet slowly, "You're right." She nearly missed his words, deciding to read his facial expression instead. He looked tired, exhausted even.

"Have you been sleeping?" The question came out without a thought, and her heart sank once he shook his head.

He took a breath, "I'm coming with you."

Her eyes practically bugged with shock, "What?"

"Where ever you're going, I'm going with you." His hand found hers, and within moments he'd woven his fingers with hers. She hadn't considered this. Why hadn't she? No, she knew the answer to that. _I want him to stay safe. _Her eyes lingered on his hook thinking about how he'd lost his hand, and it must have been rather obvious, since Killian waved it in her face, "Extra weapon, remember?

* * *

Given that Emma had awoken them, she discovered that they hadn't actually slept the entire night away. It was still pitch black outside, and judging by the position of the moon, it was nowhere near morning. Killian had given her a black shirt, trousers and vest. The vest was made of a rather supple leather, with rather intricate patterns sewn into the material. It was quite beautiful, but obviously his own, given how loosely it hung off her body. He insisted she wore it, so Emma had a feeling it was enchanted somehow.

Armed with only their rapiers, Killian poured the pixie dust on their heads; Emma noted there was not quite enough for a return journey. She'd have to figure out how to get them back without going across the water, especially if they failed to actually get the box. The entire flight over, Emma was essentially in auto-pilot, as she was far too consumed with her worries to even focus on the flight. Thankfully, Killian guided her, though she noticed through his grim silence that he was not all too focused either.

As they neared the giant tree that Peter Pan and the Lost Boys resided in, Emma's heart tightened in her chest. Her breath grew slightly shallower as they descended in the forest nearby. Lurking at the top of the trees, behind the leaves, Killian landed them on a sturdy branch. The night was still, with only the sound of an owl hooting in the distance softly.

"We should go through that entrance." Killian whispered, pointing to a window up towards the top of the tree. Emma wasn't exactly sure how such a window had gotten there in the first place, but she trusted his judgement. After all, he had significantly more knowledge of Peter Pan than she did. "It's Peter's room."

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Won't he be there?"

The young man next to her shrugged, "Still have the knock-out powder?" _Right._ Emma thought, wanting to wince at her stupidity. She nodded, and felt his hook brush her hair behind her ear. "You always have this little curly piece that sticks out..." It seemed he hadn't been aware he'd voiced these thoughts aloud, since Killian quickly pulled away and cleared his throat.

Her blush was probably not noticeable in the moonlight, but Emma could feel the heat in her face. "We already kissed, you don't have to act all modest now." She wasn't exactly sure where this teasing was coming from, but he scoffed in response.

"I need to focus now." He insisted, lightly nudging her with his elbow. "I'll hardly be modest when this is all over." Emma gasped at him as he wriggled his eyebrows, only for him to laugh in response.

"We don't have time for this," She hissed, only to freeze as she saw a large group of Lost Boys running out of the tree and into the other side of the forest, "Is that normal?"

Killian's lips were drawn together in a tight frown, "Something must have happened." He hesitated and then added: "Now is probably the best time to go." _Given that half the security is gone_, Emma surmised, gripping his hook firmly with her hand. She heard Killian move suddenly, as he leaned over and quickly kissed her cheek. "For good luck," He explained with a grin that the moonlight hit dramatically. Pushing off the branch, they sailed over the grass surrounding the tree, both of them keeping a watchful eye below, around and above them. Emma hadn't seen the shadow leave, which made her apprehensive.

They split apart to hover on both sides of the window, leaning into the slight crevices of the tree. Emma leaned over slightly, peering inside. The room was dimly lit, the candles were clearly not as effective as the fairies had been. There was a small desk, a chest of drawers and a rustic bed with a frame that looked like it was still a tree. The room seemed empty, however, and the door was shut. Killian nodded to her, gingerly pushing the window open and flying into the room. Emma quickly followed, slightly concerned at the fact that their pixie dust was beginning to wear off. How were they going to get back, let alone outfly Peter Pan and his shadow? Emma wanted to smack her hand against her forehead as she began to notice all the _obvious_ problems with their current mission.

Killian had his ear pressed against the door, and motioned for Emma to look about the room. She did so, but couldn't help but mentally remark at how futile it was. The box was _clearly_ not in this spartan room. Lightly touching the wood of the dresser drawers, she slowly pulled each drawer open. It was filled with all the essentials a boy would need, nothing abnormal. She closed the drawers, quietly lifting the sheets of the bed and looking under the pillows. Given the lack of lumps in both, she knew she'd find nothing. However, an old piece of parchment lay under one of the pillows. Emma touched the edge of it, tilting it towards her for a better view.

It was another drawing, though not from Milah's hand. The lines were bolder and less elegant than those in Milah's cabin. It was a young teenaged girl and two young boys, all of whom seemed to share vague facial features. The boys had varying dark shades of hair, while their sister's was much lighter. They all had strong eyebrows and the youngest boy had the biggest doe-eyes Emma had ever seen on a child. She was quite sure he'd melt her heart if she ever encountered him.

There was no signature or title to this drawing, but Emma was quite certain she wouldn't have needed one. _Wendy_. In the story she had two younger brothers, and Emma was quite certain she was the only other girl to ever visit Neverland. Or at least, of which she'd heard of. And not counting mermaids.

After staring at the drawing a little longer, Emma replaced the pillow and ran her hands under the mattress. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The desk was utterly bare, and as she looked up at the ceiling she saw no nooks in which to hide anything. If the box was hidden in this room, it was probably in a hidden space that Emma doubted she'd find. Walking over to Killian, he drew away from the door with a disappointed expression. "Nothing?"

Emma gestured to the room, "It's pretty empty."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of _course_ it wouldn't be this simple."

Attempting to ignore her rising stress levels, Emma touched his arm. "What do we do now?"

She did not get an answer to this question, however, as two loud voices were quickly heard in the hallway beyond the door. Peter Pan's irritated voice was very distinctive: "Felix, I _thought_ I told you to find the crocodile, and _skin _him. Not capture him, do I _look_ like I want Davy Jones for a pet?"

"Peter-" The voice who Emma assumed belonged to Felix was quickly cut off by an increasingly hostile Peter Pan.

"_Kill him, Felix._" His hissed voice gave Emma chills, despite the fact she wasn't exactly fond of Davy Jones in any way. "He's looking particularly gruesome without his eye anyway. How he survived _that_ injury I will never understand. She _literally_ plunged her sword in his eye, Felix."

There was a pause of hesitation on Felix's part, Emma guessed he wasn't sure how to react to Pan's suddenly conversational tone. "I'm sure it was... amusing." The last word was spoken while ending on a higher pitch, a mannerism Emma always associated with confusion. Their voices were closer, and Killian had pulled her against the wall, behind where the door would open.

"We need to leave." Emma whispered in his ear, to which he nodded. Pulling her over to the window, he took out the remaining pixie dust. He frowned, and Emma suspected it was because he realized how little they had.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, causing the pit in her stomach to drop.

"You are_ not_ leaving me here!" Her voice had risen, causing the voices in the hallway to stop.

"Did you hear something?" Peter Pan's voice was sharp, uneasy.

Killian dumped the bottle on his head, practically lunging out the window immediately afterwards. Before Emma could react, he reached back in, grabbing her by the waist, and pulling her out. The door to the room slammed open, with Pan zooming in like a shark honed in on the smell of blood.

They hovered in one of the large crevices in the tree, hidden in the shadows made by the moonlight. Pan popped his head out the window, his face half hidden behind his dark, wild hair and his eyes _glowing_ like they were candles in themselves. In this moment, he was utterly demon-like and Emma was truly afraid. Killian held her closer, and Emma was secretly thankful he'd chosen to take the pixie dust and not her. There was no way she'd be able to carry him.

Pan disappeared, and the sound of his door slamming once more. "Is he gone?" Emma's voice was so quiet, she was quite sure Killian hadn't heard her until he responded.

"I don't think so."

Everything grew quiet, not even the owl made a noise. It was completely eerie and Emma felt she was going to be sick. _He's going to _kill_ us._ Despite his previous assertions that he was once friends with Killian and saved him that one time, Emma knew better than to trust Peter Pan. There was something _wrong_ with him, and she knew she would never be able to fully take his word.

Leaning over slightly, Emma attempted to get a look into the window. In that moment there was a rustle of cloth, and when she turned back to Killian the dreaded lamp-like eyes stared back at her from over Killian's shoulder. Peter Pan held a knife to Killian's throat, causing his grip on Emma to tighten in distress. "_Careless_, Children." Pan hissed, like a creature escaped from a nightmare.

Emma looked at Killian, and in the shadows she managed to make out his wide blue eyes. "Take away the knife, Pan." She said, knowing her voice hardly sounded brave.

Peter Pan scoffed, "No." Instantly drawing back the knife and slamming the hilt on Killian's head, and within moments both he and Emma were plummeting to the ground. She hardly had enough time to react when something jerked her out of Killian's limp arms and up into the air. She saw the shadow catch her unconscious companion, only to realize what exactly was suspending her in the air by the back of the vest. "Pests." Pan's voice spat from behind her, as he began to pull her towards the window to his room. "Put him in there." She saw his arm point to the window, and the shadow flew through it, depositing Killian's body on the bed. Blood ran through his hair and down his neck, and Emma attempted to grab the windowsill.

She was jerked away from it, and found herself being flown downwards, towards the side entrance of the tree. She recognized the hallway immediately, "Let me go!" She screamed, attempting to punch Pan, but given his grip it was hard for her to rotate her body around to do so. Within moments they'd crossed the hallway, and much to her horror, the large round door to the claustrophobic room was open. She was thrown to the ground and the thick door quickly closed behind her. "No! Let me out! LET ME OUT!" Her scream was so loud, she was convinced she'd ripped out her vocal chord. Banging her fists on the immobile door was futile, as were the tears of rage and terror that flowed down her cheeks.

She was trapped in this awful claustrophobic room while Killian was unconscious and bleeding, and there was nothing she could do about it. _What is he going to do to us?_ Emma panicked, pausing from her violent banging on the door to place her palm against the wood. _And how long will he keep us here?_ She turned over her hand to stare at her wrist, knowing they were running out of time.

* * *

***cries* I am SO sorry this took so long. I had major writer's block and could only write a few hundred words at a time (hence why the beginning of this chapter is such a hot mess). But I kinda got back in the groove halfway through this. Originally this chapter was MUCH longer but I decided to split it in two (since I already had the ending done), so I could get something for you all to read. I've also gotten super busy, so it really hasn't been helping my writer's block. *fail* But I'm excited for next chapter, so do not fret! :D It's going to be very emotional, well, it was for me. lol. And the title for this chapter, it's more for the tone of the song than the actual lyrics/title. And them not using the knock-out powder is not a plot-hole, I swear! xD More like they panicked, and I'm pretty sure 90% of people don't think when they're panicking. That and the Charming family isn't exactly known for it's thought out plans.**


	15. Walls

**Chapter Fifteen: Walls**

Hours must have passed, since Emma eventually opened her eyes to the door knob slowly turning. She couldn't quite recall when she'd fallen asleep, but it must have been between beating down the door for awhile and sitting down on the bed. She gripped her sword in her dominant right hand, and held the bottle of knock-out powder in her left, ready to uncork it if she had to.

The door slowly opened, the bottom grating against the wooden floor. Emma moved herself behind it, so she held a slight element of surprise. A smaller figure entered, Skipper she quickly realized, though Emma didn't hesitate to slam the hilt of her sword down on his head. As his body fell, she hardly felt concerned, as a zombie creature, he'd be fine.

Her main priority was finding her way up to Peter's room, rescuing Killian, and getting the _hell_ out of this place. A quick glance at her wrist caused her heart to jump, as the elegant two had turned into a one. _When did this happen? How long was I in there?_ Her thoughts were chaotic, and no amount of shaking her head was going to help. _Killian. Find Killian._

Proceeding down the hallway cautiously, she made sure to check all around her. She was _not_ going to be ambushed this time, thank you. She reached a staircase, which spiraled up into the tree with uneven steps. This was incredibly risky, since she couldn't be super sure where it led, not could she effectively protect herself as she progressed up it.

She seemed to be in possession of some luck, given how empty the stairwell was. In fact, the entire tree seemed oddly still and quiet. It was slightly concerning, since she felt as if her footsteps echoed loudly as she made her way up. Finally, the stairwell opened into a singular hallway. There were several doors, but the distinctively large door at the end of the corridor was quite familiar to Emma.

She rushed towards it, slamming the door open without a regard to the noise. Her stomach dropped when she realized that Pan's room was empty, save for Pan himself, sitting cross legged on the bed with a smile on his face that reminded Emma of a demented Cheshire cat. "Your boy is gone," He said as his eyebrows lifted slightly, his smile expanding, "He abandoned you."

Emma's green eyes narrowed, "You're _lying._" She didn't even have to think about it.

Pan laughed, launching into the air. "I may or may not have threatened to throw you into the Mermaid Lagoon last night, if he didn't leave immediately." The boy shrugged, "He's probably rounding up the fairies or something. Though, with that head wound, maybe he'll pass out long before he makes it back."

She could almost feel herself pale, "You need to let me go find him."

Pan frowned immediately, "I don't have to let you do _anything_." His tone was sharp, which didn't bode well with Emma's increasing dread. "You owe me a favor, first off. And secondly, I caught you sneaking about my home." He circled Emma slowly, "You're not in a position to request _anything._"

Trying not to exhale in a hiss, Emma held her breath for a little bit longer than normal. "Killian made a deal with Ursula-"

"-I am aware." She barely finished the sentence before he cut her off, making Emma frown. Pan's body language had shifted slightly, something she almost didn't notice. The muscle around his neck tightened and his movements seemed more rigid. "It was a very big deal he made, very foolish too." He suddenly swooped down and grabbed her arm, "Come on." She attempted to pull out of his grasp, but for a seemingly fourteen-year-old boy, Peter Pan had a firm grip.

They went down the corridor, down the stairs, past the room she was captive in, and into the large circular room she'd met him in the first time they'd been introduced. The door slammed behind them, causing the candles that lit the room to flicker. Sitting on a round table in the center of the room was the box. Pan dropped her arm, and floated over to it, scooping the box up in his arms. "I'm assuming this is what you came for." He said, cradling it in his arms.

Emma paused, was she supposed to answer honestly? She opened her mouth, but the words didn't seem to want to come. She cleared her throat and tried again, "I- um, yes."

Pan rolled his eyes, "Ursula is so predictable." He pursed his lips for a moment, as if thinking about something. Moving over to her side, Pan came up only inches from Emma's face. His golden eyes leveled with hers, and he placed one hand on the box. He regarded her for a long time before sliding it across the table to her. Shaking his head slowly, with his lower jaw jutting out slightly in an emotion Emma couldn't read, he spoke clearly: "Open it."

She stared back at him in confusion, "What?" Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"_Open it!_" Peter snapped, shoving the box so hard it rammed into her stomach.

Emma winced as it made contact, the pain it caused was for more than she expected. Picking it up, she examined it. The wood was indeed engraved like vines, giving the wood a strange look, like a ball of weeds. It was surprisingly heavy for a box its size (about the size of a small cantaloupe). "What's in it?" She asked, as a strange noise began to come from it. It was like a pulsing beat, rhythmic and steady.

He looked up at the ceiling, "Something that was taken from me a long time ago." All the sudden Pan was being surprisingly docile, in comparison to his usual temperament which was akin to a writhing, menacing eel.

Emma frowned as she looked down at it. _If I didn't know any better, I'd say whatever it is sounds alive._ Her eyes narrowed, _but that's impossible._ Then again, at this stage in her time in Neverland could she really afford to think that way anymore? There were mermaids, evil octopus-witches, men who changed into crocodiles and a boy who could fly naturally.

"Unfortunately," He sighed, "It's enchanted and _I_ can't open it."

Several things became quickly evident to Emma. "Ursula can." She muttered aloud, and Pan rolled over in the air lazily and smirked at her.

"So you _are_ smarter than you act." He glided over next to her, and quickly poked the tip of her nose with his pointer finger, causing Emma to flinch and swear at him. "I was getting worried."

She wriggled her nose and glared at him, ignoring his comment as her thoughts continued. _Davy Jones had the box, but he clearly couldn't open it... or he would have, right? He must have stolen it from her, which would explain why she'd want it back._ Emma began to pace, her arms growing slightly sore from holding the box perpendicular to her chest. She racked her brain for what it could mean, what could be inside. _Wait!_ She stopped pacing, remembering the tail-end of her first conversation with the Sea-witch. _"I can get Peter Pan to do whatever I want."_ Emma's eyes widened, and she placed the box down on the table. "Whatever is in this was meant for Ursula." She gauged his reaction, though Pan didn't react.

She took a breath and continued, "Davy Jones stole it before she could get her hands on it." His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, and Emma knew she was right. "This," She jabbed her pointer finger on the top of the box, "Controls you somehow." He frowned, giving away the answer. She paused, her breath seemed to still and the room grew unbearably quiet. "What's in it?" Her voice sounded as loud as a gunshot on an empty street, and Peter Pan visibly flinched.

He flew over and grabbed the box, hugging it to his chest. "_You can't have it!_" His voice had gone shrill, making Emma jump and her heart skip a beat.

"I- I-" She attempted to speak but her voice seemed to fail her when she realized there were _tears_ in his eyes.

He leered at her, his eyes watery and it was very evident he was far too emotional to control himself. "You want to control me. _I know you do!_"

She felt frozen, her eyes unable to look away from this shell of a boy. What had happened to get him so twisted up inside? She'd seen something similar before in a foster home in New York, a fourteen year old boy who had been abandoned by his mother several months before he arrived to the house. He'd hide behind a mask of good humor, but underneath the hurt and betrayal had manifested into a slowly rotting core. Emma had been subject to his violent mood swings, the hysterical breakdown that soon occurred afterwards. She'd been too young, too emotionally guarded to understand or help. His behavior had scared her, but she always felt so guilty that she couldn't do anything.

But as she stared at Peter Pan, she knew that she still had no idea what to do. "I never did." Her voice was low, and she spoke gently but clearly. His eyes widened by a fraction, but he remained where he was, as she slowly moved towards him. "Whatever it is isn't mine. I won't take it from you."

"You're lying." His posture was defensive, but she heard a note of hesitation in his voice. She was closer now, yet he still didn't move, and she noticed his vice-grip on the box beginning to slacken slightly.

Emma couldn't help a slight laugh, "I'm not a very good liar." She finally reached him and gingerly plucked the box out of his grasp, her surprise growing as he allowed her to. She placed it on the table, and turned back to Peter who merely stared at it. Reaching out instinctively, she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm going to try to open it." His breath hitched, and she squeezed his hand again, "_No_ crying. You're going to be fine, I _promise._"

Bending down so she was at eye level with the box, she looked at the latch, where it should open. To her surprise, a small engraving of a heart was visible, front and center near where the opening would be. "What is it?" Peter's cheek pushed against hers as he looked at the box.

She shoved him away slightly with her, giving him a look. The cheekiness was clearly back, but he seemed more subdued than before. "There's an engraving of a heart."

"I don't see it." Emma pointed it out to him, but he shook his head. "There's nothing there." He pursed his lips, "Some magic thing, you being the Savior and all."

"You believe it too?"

Peter shrugged, "We'll find out."

Frowning, she ran her other finger over the engraving of the heart. It glowed red against the wood, and slowly began to contract and expand against the wood. _It's beating_. Emma felt her own heart jump, but she took a breath to steady herself. She expected the box to burst open, but after several minutes, the engraving stopped glowing and ceased to move. Disappointment spread through her, "Open!" She commanded, touching the engraving. It began to pulse again, but nothing happened. "_Open!_"

She heard Peter sigh beside her, and he pulled his hand away as he flew upwards. "Like it would be so _simple_. There's probably some magic word or phrase." There was anger in his voice, but Emma felt he was slightly justified.

She stood up, drumming her fingers on the table. _How can I figure it out when the word or _words_ could be anything?!_ While she was stubborn and determined to a fault, this was a challenge she didn't usually walk into. She looked up at the only window in the room, as she watched the sun begin to set. It was the third day. "Keep this box safe." Emma instructed Peter, placing her hand on it. "I have to go now, but I'll be back soon."

He zoomed up into her face (clearly he lacked a desire for personal space), one of his eyebrows quirked up. "You really _are_ a poor liar." He moved backwards, and regarded her while floating in a strange diagonal position. "Where are you going?"

She took a breath to steady herself, "I made a deal with Ursula to save Killian. I only had three days."

He began to mumble something under his breath, but Emma caught the words 'boys', 'polyp', and 'idiot'. Peter seemed to stop moving, slowly he managed to form words: "What happens if you don't have the box?"

Emma swallowed, "She takes my heart."

Much to her confusion and irritation, he began to smirk. His eyes flicked up and down her body and he chuckled. "_Oh..._" His head bent back and he began to laugh like a madman.

"_What_ is so funny?"

He wiped away tears with the back of his hand, "This is going to be fun." He grabbed the box, and hooked her arm with his own.

She glanced at the box under his other arm, "What are you doing?"

Peter leaned into her ear and murmured, "You're going to trick Ursula into adding a clause to your agreement."

Emma's eyebrows came together in befuddlement, "Trick her?"

He nodded, "Use the box."

"What... clause am I adding?"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Emma stood on the shore with the box in her hands. Peter lurked in a tree top at the tree-line, and she could almost feel his gaze on her. The water began to bubble several feet out into the water, the tips of Ursula's white hair became visible as she surfaced.

The woman let out a bark of laughter, "You actually _succeeded_." She wiggled her finger at Emma, "Bring it here, and your boy goes free."

Taking a dramatic step backwards, Emma shook her head. "I'd like to make an addition to our contract."

Ursula's eyes narrowed, sending a chill down Emma's spine. "_What?_" Her voice was sharp and distinct.

"You _know_ what I said." Emma retorted, sounding a lot braver than she felt.

The cecaelian paused, clearly thinking this through. "What would this addition be?"

Taking a big breath (while trying to ignore the pulsations from the box), the blond knew it was now or never. While she had no idea what Peter was thinking, she had a feeling what she was about to say was somehow in his best interest. "You only have one chance to take my heart." _Really though, with a good knife or claws I don't see how she can fail..._ Emma thought, nausea growing in her stomach. "If you fail, the box remains here. Killian goes free. I go free."

Slowly, Ursula raised an eyebrow. She let out a nasal laugh, as she snapped her fingers. "Consider it done." The words appeared on the contract, huge and in dark ink, so that even at her distance, Emma could read them. Putting the box down on the sand, Emma wondered if these would be her last few minutes of life.

"Sign it!" Emma demanded, Ursula's smile twitched. The woman conjured a quill made of fish bone, and signed her name under Emma's.

The contract disappeared,

But _something_ told her she would survive this. Just before she arrived to the beach, Peter said something that struck her as odd but slightly comforting. _"Even the heartless survive in Neverland, Emma."_ Was that magically possible? Or some cryptic riddle?

Did this mean she even trusted Peter Pan? Looking back briefly at the trees, Emma made her way into the water. He was sort of a childhood hero to her (rescuing abandoned boys and all), despite his turn for the worse here. She wanted to believe, but...

Why was she doing this?

To be perfectly honest it had been a combination of emotions and arrogance at the start. She was convinced she could get that box to Ursula, her thieving skills were quite good after years of pilfering from bullies at schools and foster homes. That, and she felt that pull on her heart at the thought of Killian being lost to Ursula. Had she considered the consequences?

Not well enough, it seemed. Marching into the water, she maintained eye contact with the Sea-witch the entire time. Emma felt like she was going to throw up, and that wasn't exactly how she wanted to look in her final moments. Tentacles wrapped around her ankles, and Ursula laughed her strange, oddly deep laugh, "Oh angel-fish, I always get the heart the first time." She grinned, "I knew you'd be an easy catch. Love _is _weakness, my girl." There was a shout from behind them, but before Emma could turn to look, Ursula's large purple hand had gone _into_ her chest.

Emma gasped as it felt like all the wind had been knocked from her body, a dull aching pain spread through out her limbs and intensified in her chest. There was a tug, as Ursula gripped her heart and attempted to pull it out. However, Emma's entire body was pulled forwards, and she saw Ursula's smile snap into a frown. It was obvious that Ursula was pulling with all her might, but the heart wasn't budging.

"Hurry... up..." Emma panted through gritted teeth, as the Sea-witch's expression slowly became enraged.

She withdrew her hand, "What are you?" The woman snapped, her tentacles squeezing Emma's legs painfully. She primed her hand once more as if to repeat the heart snatching, but the second her fingertips made contact with Emma's skin, the contract appeared between them. "_No!_" Ursula hissed, her expression livid. "You cheated me! What is this magic?" Her eyes widened suddenly and she gaped at Emma, "_You're_ the one _he_ prophesied about. Impossib-"

Something shot through the air, clipping the Sea-witch's arm, the shock caused her tentacles to relax in their grip. Taking the chance, Emma bolted out of the water before she could get caught once more. She felt something nip at her ankle, but made it to the shore where she practically collided into Killian. "Next one goes for your head!" He shouted, Emma only just registering that the crossbow had replaced his hook.

A scream of rage erupted from Ursula, but Emma refused to turn to look at her. Instead she focused on the figure of Peter Pan emerging from the trees, as he scooped up his box. "I hope your aim has improved, Killian. You were always a terrible shot." He cackled, floating over to Emma's side. He raised his eyebrows, "I had a _feeling_ your heart would be hard to obtain."

Emma heard the crossbow fire again, but there was no further noise. Daring to look at the water, she saw that Ursula had disappeared. Shaking, she thought she was going to collapse if Killian's arm hadn't appeared to steady her. "You all right?" He asked, as she threw her arms around him, and they stayed in an embrace for what felt like eternity.

"Children, can we... _not_?" Emma looked up to find Peter gesticulating to them.

"Stuff it, Peter." Killian hissed, barely loosening his hold on Emma.

Peter sighed, "Love each other all you want, but that won't change the fact that there is a half dead girl that just washed up on the beach over there."

He was pointing to their left, causing Emma to jump out of Killian's arms and without even thinking she ran over to the girl. "Why didn't you say something _sooner_?" She screeched at Peter, who hung back.

Wet red hair was matted all the girl's face, and Emma instinctively pulled off her large shirt, and draped it over the girl who seemed to lack clothing. She heard the boys come up behind her, as she pushed the girl's hair out of her face. "Ariel?" Emma gently pushed her fingers against the side of the girl's throat, and leaned her cheek over Ariel's mouth. A sigh of relief escaped the blond when she realized the girl was breathing. She sat back on her heels, only to look down at Ariel's... feet? "Oh God, no." Once she rolled over the former mermaid's arm, an intricate 'three' was etched onto her wrist.

* * *

**I can't apologize enough for how long this took! It was my birthday last Monday, I was super busy with work and I just started up college again (senior!) so that's why this took forever. Anyway, the chapter is a bit rushed but I just wanted to get it out there! For those of you who wanted a Peter Pan chapter, here it is! Though, I want to emphasize that Peter is physically 14 years old and actor wise, most resembles Thomas Brodie-Sangster (Jojen Reed from Game of Thrones). Once you find out about his past, it'll become obvious a thing with Emma was never in the cards. xD I'm probably going to make a little face-claim gif set on my tumblr right after this, if anyone would like a reference for all the characters! Thank you again for all the reviews, you are all lovely people! FINALLY, I suggest really listening to the song 'Walls' by The Rocket Summer, it's basically Peter's song.**


End file.
